d12
whether or not
No escapin' this) [Kon Artis- Intro] Ha, ha, ha Yo, yo, yo, yo-yo D12, Kon Artis Yo, yo [Kon Artis] Oh we sound like Em clones uh? Where the fuck you think he started at homes, uh? Skip the small talk, talkin' is a risk you take Kick yo' face 'till yo' head go through this window and break To the 1-9, Denaun cause the gun-line And collect yank from every weed spot like I'm one time I'm ain't the remorseful type, I'll drink and still drive prone on any thing at any given night Fuck leavin' my roots, I'm still in cahoots with nincompoots who shoot up like troops in Babe Ruth Pull up in a red hersh, with Fred Durst dressed like a nurse, With a cold purse, screamin' the stove hurt [Bizarre] On my Harley Davison, I ride down Main Street I speed with my dad's name on my ass cheek Gimme your ones and get robbed with a broken gun Got you doin' more dances than Puffy's son All you groupies that wanna get took, you gotta be 12 years old with a coloring book And anyone else who wanna get fucked, cause.. (No one's ready to deal with us) [Eminem] Whether you rap or you don't rap (No escapin' this) Duck 'fo you get rushed (No escapin' this) Get stucked fuckin' with us (No escapin' this) Cause... (No one's ready to deal with us) We interrupt your little world of perfect mist To bring you this shit that murder conserved us with Cursin' diss, with verses so merciless these words can just fuck up your high worse than this... I KILL for less, and dump BODIES in the muthafuckin' wilderness I'm a wilderbeast, I conceal the peace even after I was bust if I want police You think, just because I got caught by these cops once I'm not gonna carry shot guns to blow your wigs back like hamburgers without buns!! Too many damn murders I can't even count one!! Two black guns, I don't know maybe they're Magnums?!! I don't know what the fuck they're called, I just grabbed 'um!! 12-gauge dumped in a drug fueled rage, fuck age, I'm still goin' through my "fuck-you" stage I'm a, "27-year-old-eleven-year-old", I'ma never grow up, bitch I ain't gon' never get old I'll be sittin' here with a cane and a beard, Still insane and as weird as a deaf-can'-even-hear, brain in my rear, yeah So 'till I'm wrinkled as Robert Van Winkle, I'm a drop a damn single every goddamn week people It's D12, June 19th, so do like me, and go buy three, with no I.D. Kids... [Proof] Now why you wanna play a game with me, dangerously The outcome's hot, once splittin' your brain in three Proof with crooked raps, always ask them "What the fuck you lookin' at"? And invite the hook to scrap I gave my life to God, n***a, then I took it back Took it black, this fuckin' gat, will leave your cookie cracked Detroit's, derelict, arrogant, terrorist, straight on you areospit Spit at people various people, to leave you bloody 'till your buried with Every hit was serious, n***as wanna know how murderous The Dirty Harry is When I'm on your front porch with guns about to bust Cause... (No one's ready to deal with us) [Swift] Ha, When they runnin' to Swift they change directions My shit so tight when hoes hear it they catch a yeast infection You need protection, you gon' fear it I snatch away yo' DNA from existance, with no spirit Give up the carrots or see the .9 Fuckin' with mine is like barracine chewin' up swine, on Christmas With a white trailer bitch on his arm, chillin' in Europe, havin dinner with a platime, I attack killin', fuckin' hoes like Mack Dillin' Stackin' obituaries higher than Michcael Jackson's cieiclin' I leaves nobody livin', I got Satan shiverin' Hate what I'm deliverin', you know the best then send 'em in, crack you with a fifth of gin You got your mem, but they all wearin' skirts like them ***** from Scotland, you hoes are not grimm Don't make me stop in with a mag, and blow yo feet up out yo Top Ten's [Kuniva] I'm the one they call in the "Tortia" Smackin' your bitch and forcin' her in the back seat of an old Corcia Kuniva's the silent type, but under the silence violent life, usually followed by sirens and lights Get your throat cut by this tyrant's knife, from high as a kite From get-a-way drivers drivin' right Fuckin' with Hans will get you flipped like a baton, the deadliest bombs Wrap around n***as like Camabons, you know I ain't nothin' to play with Thinkin' you real like The Matrix, fuckin' with ***** drippin' off self-hatred I'm on some live shit, rappers be on some "ready-to-die" shit 'Till I put a ice pick, right through they eyelids, fuck heaters, I'll knock you out instead of shootin' I hit hard, break yo' fuckin' jaw like Resolution Give up the cash and coat, or get your little brother's classroom smoked And the substitue gaged and choked *****... D12, June 19th... Get ready for it... Trouble soon, baby... You know it... Tell your mama and your sister too... Cause we fuckin' 'em...