Artist: Eminem, Slaughterhouse, Yelawolf Album: 2011 BET Hip Hop Awards Song: Shady 2.0 Cypher Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Intro: Eminem] Welcome to Detroit This is the BET, Shady 2.0, Cypher, 2011 Myself, Slaughterhouse, and Yelawolf White dawg (thank you cracker) get 'em! [Yelawolf] Put these {motherfuckers} in a box and I'll, send 'em away, put 'em in a gray 'llac and pop the trunk, hey throw 'em in the back jack, I'll dig 'em a grave Put a brick inside that Xerox when I print 'em a page Movin ki's I can't relate, cause I live in a cage I throw up the A, I'll take 'em to school, I'll give 'em a grade An +Eazy E+ for effort, that's WWA White With an Attitude, alphabet soup is on my plate All I got is Z's, they sleepin on me, I can't get 'em awake I spoon-feed 'em the sound in a room full of deceivers and clowns who believe they makin it rain cause all they see is the clouds And I watch from the couch of the V.I.P. 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'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 2-liter Holler, Shady Records (uhh) [Budden] Nah I need the scratch to get me amped [Eminem] Aiyyo wait wait wait wait wait wait, okay go, yeah yeah [Budden] I'm 'bout to get 'em, I'm 'bout to get 'em right [Eminem] Wait wait, okay [Joe Budden] Yo, 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 a while - y'all birthed me and gave me up I just perfected bein hip-hop's foster child Now check it, don't blame y'all for bein trash fans are coppin it The radios, the crime scene, the masses are the hostages In my youth I'd throw shots, the fag 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 loom 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 Was left to me I'd revive what the game be 'bout I'da 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 shit from uptown, she my summer bunny Both parents broke but she come/cum 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 that Holiday Inn, learned that from Max B That's why the haters every kind'll wanna send me llamas I made it right before they eyes like I was Benihana's Is it me or is what I'm hearin is pitiful? Airwaves the same, now the stereo's typical My skin 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 Ward With the black ball way I bounce off the ass forward would cap whores Blast y'all, hoodie and mask will be the black foot with no passport Body be found in the mansion in one of my trap doors If punks had awards your status whore is categor' Probably be that of awards 'tween Michael Rapaport or Kenny Lattimore I know hip-hop's alive and well If it died you other crews wouldn't survive the smell [Royce] Ladies and gentlemen [Crook] You scared now? [Shady] Make that face at 'em dawg! [Royce] Crooked I, get 'em! [Crooked I] 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 in composition So competition's a contradiction, somebody mention they got it crooked, highly fiction, we probably different Got Gotti henchmen, opposition I body quick as Bugatti engines I'm on a mission to get, richer The sickest lyric kickin, 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's 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 ta, 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 ya hope I'm vegan, nope I'm beefin Rappers need to keep it trill, gimme a beat to kill Too many people still eatin sleepin pills, people sleepin on my ether skills And y'all ain't even real - you 'bout to die in the cypher Before you die you should do the Jada and leave a +Will+ For real [Joell Ortiz] (Yaowa) I ain't a rap dude, I'm a dude who rap Before this I was movin crack Them killers y'all become when y'all rhyme I salute and dap And if I blink then remove your snaps You ain't cool you wack, with y'all foolish act Skinny jeans don't mean yo' ass shoot, it means your booty claps Haha, don't play like Tyler Perry This the Slaughter-House of Pain, flow brown, tight and heavy When it come to sixteens I'm a fiend Seen in a studio, near a needle with a mean lean Probably writin bars to Nas' "Thief's Theme" Gettin my yaowa on, they all these Olajuwon's, we the Dream Team This is an all day slaughter They fiendin for us to break like Beyoncé'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 tryin to put me out's like tryin to steal a transvestite from Eddie Hahaha [Royce Da 5'9"] Yeah, 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 wit'chu? 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 ask me why do I keep her I say it's cheaper to That's why I ride around in the Rolls like Wiz Khalifa do Rappers I'm your daddy, I'll tell you straight as this You don't kill but your father +Will+ like Jayden Smith I'll tell you like I tell my Spanish chick You fly but I ain't goin down on no landing strip So get your wax on like Daniel-san Now 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 market like a Walmart in a cul-de-sac Yeah, this what two millions singles sold and the album that's gold look like, without havin to sell your soul Nickel [Shady] Wait, can I rap? [Joe B] You the boss, you better get 'em [Shady] Me rap? [Joe B] Represent [Eminem] Aiyyo, lyrical miracle spiritual individual criminal Subliminal, in your swimmin pool (OOOOOOOOOH!) (Yo yo yo, yo, c'mon man kick that shit I wrote you) You 'bout to see peace destroyed, it'll never be restored When I unleashed 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 rap that'll eat these floors Eat a hole in the 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 shoe horn 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 shelltoe Adidas So I can put these babies in the fetal position They gettin elbows to the penis, yeah big deal I took some little kid's big wheel and spit in his frickin big kid's meal Quit tryna bite me and pinch you wench, sit still Did you just put your 6-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 the stick shift in his frickin pick-up and drink like a hick, redneck, hillbilly will 'til he gets hiccups? 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'll {fuck} a trick up Fix your lips up to say somethin fly, or zip up A-B? Let's C/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 emcee/M-C 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 That gives me more power I bump the Fat Boys and, eat rat poison, take meteor showers Fresh out of the mental hospital And me not flossin a middle finger while I hop in a moshpit'll be like Nas doin gospel or R&B, you crazy? Me pushin up daisies, that thought is impossible as if flashin across the news Posdnous was caught with a prostitute with a huge johnson, boobs and monstrous tube of lube, and a bra, some boots and 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