Elimination Chamber

[Intro: Jim Ross & Domo Genesis] The Elimination Chamber You know, there's gonna be one winner But I got a feeling, over the long haul (Yo) There may not be any survivors (Um, yo) [Verse 1: Domo Genesis] Oh-so cocky, you can't stop me in this old Versace Nigga watch me in the streets like it's roller hockey Your bitch is floppy, givin' sloppy while she call me, "Papi" Takin' the doggies right to the face like she Kobiyashi You niggas' flow is washy, I'm gettin' mines dry cleaned Tight seam, it might seem I'm sellin' bitches pipe dreams Hi, fiends, I'm back with a bag of them packed white things My Nikes clean, I see these niggas hatin' through my ice blings I'm a bad motherfucker, I ain't use a rubber Super lover, so soon, you'll say hello to your newest brother The truest colors what I bleed, but you ain't seen enough of Nigga leaking, you gon' have to go see the deacon, you stupid sucker Young Dom, say you old niggas should wrap it up You whack, focus back on the craft, you hardly rap enough The fattest blunt, and death to that pop-hop, I ain't ask for much And stop askin' for them collabs 'cause all you bastards suck [Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt] This that thirty-deep-in-Saugus shit Fire-starter squadron, dodgin' coppers since— Ask her why she dropping, cuz, it's probably 'cause he prodigious Pay the rent easy, leave the bank cheesy And bass leave your face greasy, artisan, paint easy Thick bristle type nigga on a bitch steez Stanzas diesel like Vic Tanny on a fritz, Whoops, system overload, itchin' for a foe to poach Spittin' like the engine on a motherfuckin' motorboat Gold glisten under overcoat Missin' all affection for these niggas Redirectin' all these niggas Very literal, type to sip the Mickeys out of cereal Drunk and driving, twisty, how he inked up in the swimming pool? Hundred stand against me, I'm a menace, void a villain, sue me Driving into fences 'cause I hit the whip a little woozy Bitch, I'm busy cruising, 'scuse me [Verse 3: Vince Staples] Can't even walk up in the church without these niggas tryna testify I live to die, better that than to live a lie I rap better than most these rap veterans Hard-headed and hopeless, hope that God let us in Mama didn't wanna give birth to a nigga Should've murdered a nigga, I'm a cancer to the youth Automatics out the roof, .380 with the weave in it On sight, scary as prom nights with Carrie Or car rides with Berry— that's Halle, not Brent Shooting like Brent and his brother, doin' what daddy had did Niggas want Grammys and shit, that's funny to me 'Cause since the first take, it's been about money to me I'm just tryin' to get what Diddy got, doin' what got Biggie shot They told me that I wasn't shit, but left me in a litter box Give it up and get a job [Verse 4: Action Bronson] Ugh, get a job, bitch I'm like the boss from the end of the Nintendo game My brain is on another level, I can feel the devil's pain Only address me by my reverend name— the good doctor The good author, good brain in a good Porsche Dancing drunk in dress pants like I'm a hunk Backflip in a jacuzzi, forty floors inside the Trump Front-flip into this high-yellow Chinese bitch's rump Then she make me chicken broccoli for lunch I roll a joint like a Mutumbo arm, I'm high cousin Every time I roll the dice, it's five hundred When I order wine, it's nine hundred, French chefs kneel before me End of story, take a shorty to the sortee That's the bathroom, you already know what happens there I pull my swimming trunks down She suck me through the boxer while I'm wearin' flip-flops Shit's real, grip the wheel, lift steel [Outro: Action Bronson] That's it Yeah, woo Fuck yeah, hello Fanfare, bravo, encore