Bet Shady 2.0 Cypher

Welcome to Detroit This is the BET, Shady 2.0 Cypher 2011 Myself, Slaughterhouse, and Yelawolf White Dawg, get 'em! (Thank you, cracker king!) Yeah Put these motherfuckers in a box, then I send 'em away Put 'em in a gray 'llac and pop the trunk Ayy, throw 'em in the back, jack; ha, dig 'em a grave Put a brick inside that Xerox when I print up a page Movin' keys, I can relate, 'cause I live in a cage I throw up the A, I take 'em to school, I give 'em a grade An easy E for effort; that's WWA White with an attitude, alphabet soup is on my plate All I got is Zs, they sleepin' 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 makin' 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 puttin' Nikes on a cheetah Better speed up, or at least in my case Adidas I'm out this bitch, drinkin' Sprite by the two-liter Holler! Shady Records… Say I'm from the new school I'ma say, "Check your tone and watch your mouth!" If they teachin' how to Dougie, I'm condonin' droppin' 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 coppin' it The radio's the crime scene, the masses are the hostages In my youth I'd throw shots, the fad was dodgin' it I'm grown, I ain't watchin' the throne, I'm sabotagin' it You see that four-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'd have 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 got 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 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 the haters envy, kinda wanna send me llamas I made it right before their eyes, like I was Benihana's 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 Hood of your mask will be the Blackfoot with no passport Body be found in a mansion in one of my trapdoors If punks had award, you status whores categore Probably be that of awards Between Michael Rapaport and Kenny Lattimore I know hip-hop's alive and well If it died, you other crews wouldn't survive the smell Ladies and gentlemen... (You scared now?) Make that face at 'em, dog! Crooked I Get 'em! I spot a victim, the plot'll thicken when the clock is tickin' I caught him slippin', I gotta give him 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 Diggin' 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 supposed to, flow is goin' postal even Open season, heart close to freezin' Ruthless as Eazy, nigga, approach, I'm squeezin' Believe me, dopest West-Coaster breathin' So most y'all hope I'm vegan; nope, I'm beefin' Rappers need to keep it trill, give me a beat to kill Too many people still eatin' sleeping pills People sleepin' on my ether skills And y'all ain't even real, you 'bout to die in this cypher Before you die you should do the Jada and leave a will, for real I ain't a rap dude, I'm a dude who rap Before this I was movin' crack Killers y'all become when y'all rhyme, I salute and dap And if I blink, they'll remove your snaps, you ain't cool, you wack With your foolish act Skinny jeans don't mean your ass shoot, it means your booty claps, haha Don't play like Tyler Perry This the Slaughterhouse of pain, flow brown, tight and heavy When it come to sixteens, I'm a fiend Seen in the studio near a needle with a mean lean Probably writin' bars to Nas' "Thief's Theme," gettin' my yaowa on Man, all these Olajuwons, we the dream team This is an all day slaughter They fiendin' for us to break, like Beyonce's water The four quarters doin' all the eatin' And y'all gotta know why I made the cut, I'm Puerto Rican Ortiz keep the fire ready And tryna put me out's like tryna steal a transvestite from Eddie Hahahahahaha Hahaha A'ight (Ayo) Yeah, Joe All right, go ahead, rap Lyrical miracles I'm do-or-die dope And you can make the sticker sittin' on the door of that Phantom your suicide note Hi, Rihanna, is Nicki livin' with you? Let me know so I can buy binoculars and telescopes Hi, Rihanna, I don't need to know you better You tell me you love my music again, we go together Bye, Rihanna—now back to y'all fools We rock out, like the outside of a guitar school Thousand dollar frames, I prefer to see the world through Don't ask me nothin' 'bout Budden, I beat my girl too You aks me why do I keep her, I say it's cheaper to That's why I ride around in a Rolls, like Wiz Khalifa do Rappers, I'm your daddy, I tell you straight as this You don't kill, but your father will, like Jaden Smith I tell you like I tell my Spanish chick You fly, but I ain't goin' down on no landin' strip So get your wax on, like Daniel San, or I'ma have to Run Like De la Hoya in drag when cameras come Point out the greatest rapper alive, I'll head-shot him Smack his girl on the butt and buy her some red bottom Bring every deceased rapper back to see his wife While I'm cyber-sexin' with Jessica Alba via Skype I'm on my D-boy, Deebo thing Spiritual steelo swing, like Cee-Lo Green Get out the camera with your B-Roll bling, you know your flow is wack We cornered the market, like a Wal-Mart in a cul-de-sac Yeah, this what two million singles sold And an album that's gold look like without having to sell your soul Nickel Ayo, lyrical miracle, spiritual individual, criminal Subliminal in your swimming pool… (Boooooo!) You're 'bout to see peace destroyed, it'll never be restored When I unleash these beastly hordes on your CD stores Wanna stop it? You gon' need a priest, at least three swords A license to ill from the Beastie Boys Three Ouija boards, and a squeegee, and please be warned Don't ask what the squeegee's for Or the holy water, acid raps that'll eat these floors Eat a hole in a rhyme book, you see these horns? And as for me, you ask when I'm gone, will he be mourned? Is puke lukewarm? Should Casey Anthony do porn? Can that chick fit a newborn dead baby inside a frickin' shoebox with a shoehorn Smothered in chloroform, so she can go get her groove on? Can she duct-tape and Velcro a fetus? Joell, yo, tell Joe I need his Empty box from his old shell-toed Adidas So I can put these babies in a fetal position They're gettin' elbows to the penis Yeah, big deal, I took some little kid's Big Wheel And spit in his frickin' big kids meal Quit tryna bite me and pinch, you wench, sit still! Did you just put your six-inch heel through my Benz windshield?! Is it dust we 'bout to kick up? Can Yelawolf fit a fifth of rum in a big cup Between his stick shift in his frigging pickup And drink like a hick redneck hillbilly will 'til he gets hicc-ups? Flippin' the script up, like Mike Vick Gettin' bit in his junk by a Pit, yup, I'm a sick pup I'd be a horrible magician, 'cause I'd fuck a trick up Fix your lips up to say somethin' fly, or zip up! Ayy, B, let's see: You said you're gonna do X-Y-Z 'Til you fuck around and get dropped Like an E when you add an I-N-G Don't put a K in front of that, though, when I MC 'Cause I'm not the king of this microphone booth, it's more like a phone booth Superman in this bitch, Kryptonite won't do It gives me more power I bump the Fat Boys and eat rat poison, take meteor showers Fresh outta the mental hospital And me not flossin' a middle finger while I hop in a mosh pit Will be like Nas doin' gospel or R&B—you crazy? Me pushin' up daisies, that thought is impossible As if flashin' across the news Posdnuos was caught with a prostitute With a huge johnson, boobs and a monstrous tube Of lube, and a bra, some boots, some panties, and an aqua blue Mazda Swallowin' a Popsicle, playin' tonsil pool So kill the rumors, it ain't happenin'; I'ma rap 'til I'm fossil fuel