Alba s touto skladbou:
Featuring (1996-2013),
[Intro: Yelawolf]
Aye Boo, get these motherf*ckers
And pass that jack
[Hook: Gangsta Boo]
I see you b*tches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin' sh*t
Get the f*ck from 'round here, you don't rep my sh*t
You ain't from my city, you don't know about this
You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it b*tch!
Now throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up!
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) You ain't ready for it b*tch
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up! Throw it up!
You ain't ready for it b*tch
[Verse 1: Yelawolf]
I already got 2 cars in a yard that don't run
So why would I wanna break sh*t down for you
Better be confused with the punch lines and bars that I lunch
Here the king if archery come
Wit' a cracker d*ck to f*ck you and that pussy carpet you munch
If I'm not hardly the one
You must be barely the one
Billy if really you're kiddin'
B*tch I'm the prodigal son
And I'm stuntin' like my daddy
Dr-dr-drinkin' like my mama
Co-co-country like my uncle
Stuttering like a CD in a dunk
P-p-p-punk
And I'm in a blue Chevy runnin' over motherf*ckers in first
I ain't even shift gears yet,
I ain't even here yet I'm outta this earth, right (yeah ho)
But I just hit the surface and I'm bout to walk into a bank,
Wit' a shank and a black can of paint and check the clerk: where the keys?
B*tch you better check your purse, I got a brick of herb,
And I hit the syrup and I'm feeling like I might just hit the curb
So get the f*ck outta my way buddy
You don't wanna walk around the chicken house with a hawk little puppy dog
Yelawolf and Eminem sh*t
Sufferin' succotash, yeah, suck a d*ck b*tch
[Hook: Gangsta Boo]
I see you b*tches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin' sh*t
Get the f*ck from round' here, you don't rep my sh*t
You ain't from my city, you don't know about this
You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it b*tch!
Now throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up!
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) You ain't ready for it b*tch
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up! Throw it up!
You ain't ready for it b*tch
[Verse 2: Gangsta Boo]
B*tch please, you don't want to step up to this Mrs.
G-A-N-G-S-T-A Boo make a n*gga hit his knees
When I'm up in the building
Preaching to my children
I don't be taking no sh*t from you haters
You'll make me hurt one of your feelings (ha, ha, ha, ha, ha)
Naa, naa, ne, naa, naa
Pick yo face up off the flo'
I got you feeling sad naa
You be on that hokeewag
Hokeewag is bullsh*t
Run into this gangsta have your preacher at the pulpit, b*tch!
I was born on the Mississippi River
Take no sh*t from a b*tch or a n*gga
So, so crazy got a f*cked up temper
Bipolar, not Nikki, I'm worsa, I'll hurt cha
I gotta crazy ass mind game
My n*gga, I'm a lion untamed
Hunt your ass down in my jungle
I do this, I tell them hoes…
You ain't ready for it b*tch!
[Hook: Gangsta Boo]
I see you b*tches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin' sh*t
Get the f*ck from round' here, you don't rep my sh*t
You ain't from my city, you don't know about this
You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it b*tch!
Now throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up!
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) You ain't ready for it b*tch
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up! Throw it up!
You ain't ready for it b*tch
[Verse 3: Eminem]
Me and Yelawolf tear the roof of this motherf*cker
You ain't got the oomph you're a hoof to the foot of an elephant
Hello toots you look so eloquent that's what I tell a cunt
Come sit up front cause you're kickin' my seat
And I'm tryin' to the tell the cashier what I want!
They say I act like an asshole, when I pull up at the White Castle
And I ask for an appli-cation, throw it back in their face and
Tell the b*tch I'm a rapper, then I wrap her
In the head with a Whopper that I bought from BK
You expect me to be proper?
B*tch you better pop in a CD of me immediately, slut hoe skeedideedada
Prada? Not a chance, I was thinkin' about buyin' you some clothes
But Target was closed so I decided to mosey on over to K-Mart, but the doors
Was locked, what about some shoes I thought, great I suppose
So I go to Payless but what'dya know, they didn't carry a size 8 in hoes!
Oh! This is ugly boy swag, puttin' toe tags on you motherf*ckin' ho bags
What a trailer trash pioneer, I am yeah, that's why I'm here
I don't got a rhyme book it's more like a motherf*ckin' diary that diarrhea
Me, Yelawolf and Gangsta Boo came here to show you a thing or two
'Bout sign language, middle fingers aimed at you
So we don't gotta scream at you!
Ow! I just bit my bottom lip, it was an accident
I went to go tell 'em all to go get f*cked
But I'm never gonna bite my tongue, little b*tch throw it up
