Shady Records 2.0 Boys - 2011 Cypher (Uncut) | Текст песни

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• Shady Records 2.0 Boys
• 2011 Cypher (Uncut)

[Verse 1: Yelawolf]
Put these muthafuckas in a box and I send 'em away
Put em in a gray 'llac and pop the trunk
And throw em in the back, jack, ha, dig 'em a grave
Put a brick inside that Xerox when I print 'em a page
Moving keys I can relate, cause I live in the cage
I throw up the A, I take 'em to school, I give them a grade
An easy E for effort, that's the WWA
White with an attitude, alphabet soup is on my plate
All I got is Z's they sleeping on me, I can't get 'em awake
I spoon feed 'em a sound, in a room full of deceivers and clowns
Who believe in making it rain cause all they see is the clouds
And I watch from the couch of the VIP like a potato
With a bunch of meatheads, like fuck it, I'll just feed 'em a cow
Plenty of white boys to pick from this year
But before you pick a pepper, you better pick up your heater
Cause even Peter Piper could pick up a mic
But what it's like to pick a fight with me is like putting Nikes on a cheetah
Better speed up, or at least in my case Adidas
I'm out this bitch, drinking Sprite by the two-liter

[Verse 2: Joe Budden]
Say I'm from the new school, I'mma say check your tone and watch your mouth
If they teaching how to Dougie, then I'm condoning dropping out
Forced to wild, y'all birthed me then gave me up
I just perfected being hip hop's foster child
Now check it: don't blame y'all for being trash, fans are copping it
The radio's the crime scene, the masses are the hostages
In my youth I'd throw shots, the fad was dodging it
I'm grown: I ain't watching the throne, I'm sabotaging it
You see that 4-headed monster in the storm looms
Snipe 'em from a distance: the scope got a long zoom
You Super Mario thugs is in the wrong room
Gotta figure here, you won't get bigger if you on shrooms
If it was left to me, I'd revive what the game be 'bout
I woulda took the Wine outta Amy House
Enough raps from you scrub cats bout cockin' a snub back
Wayne couldn't teach me how to love that
But I have this chick from uptown, she my summer bunny
Both parents broke, but she come from money
Think my bread is her paper to burn
So I lock her out, and now she doubt David is Stern
She's so bad, I make her hit the telly from a taxi
Then dead her in the Holiday Inn, learned that from Max B
That's why haters envy, kinda wanna send me llamas
I made it right before their eyes like I was Benihanas
Is it me? Or is what I'm hearing just pitiful?
Airwaves the same, now the stereo's typical
My skin's thick, so the critics ignored
So unafraid to die, you'd think I did it before
The boy's Rodman with the trash talk, Magic or Walt
With the black ball, way I bounce off the asphalt with cat paws
Glass jaw, hoodie a mask will be to Blackfoot with no passport
Body be found in a mansion in one of my trap doors
If punks had award you status whores categore
Probably be that of awards between Michael Rappaport and Kenny Latimore
I know hip hop's alive and well
If it died, you other crews wouldn't survive the smell

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
I spot a victim, the plot'll thicken when the clock is ticking
I caught him slipping, I gotta give a shot
I hit him with proper spittin, hottest writtens and compositions
So competition's a contradiction, somebody mention they got a Crooked
Highly fiction we probably different, got Gotti henchmen
Opposition, I'll body quick as Bugatti engines
I'm on a mission to get richer, the sickest lyric kicker
Digging a ditch for different spitters, weak lyricists get disfigured
Sip liquor, spit like a sick mixture
Of Notorious, Pun and L, get the big picture?
The poster, I'll roast ya
My mind so deadly it's just like the beanie is close to a holster
It's over, control my whole coastal region
Like I'm sup

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