I Ain't Scared (Oil Can Harry)

[Intro: Proof] Derty Harry is dead [x4] I'm here to announce that Derty Harry is dead Now witness the life of his son, or Oil Can Harry, The Boss [Verse 1: Proof & Eminem] My life is trapped in these lines, that’s why I’m packin' these nines I gotta rap, I ain’t dyin', that’s in the back of my mind Got a strap made of iron, can’t relax on this grind Bendin' over backwards for these slackers 'til I’m snappin' my spine Natural high, gotta focus, on these bogus poachers Lookin' over my shoulder, Proof get it poppin' like soda Hold up, we nothin' but soldiers Slow up, this gun is loaded Roll up, they beef and we leavin' ‘em coked up! If Slim say it, I spray it; if he will it, I kill it We Kilpatrick and Ilitch of Detroit, y'all can feel it Real as this gun on my waistline, at war we don't waste time Ja, man, he can’t take a punch and 50 can take nine (brrrah!) We got Schoolcraft here at the 7, 8, and Dexter I’m up in Hollis spendin’ dollars, ain’t feelin' no pressure Yes sir, your texture is bitch, betcha you flinch When Proof shoot up that coup and wet your whole clique Fuck it, who's next on this shit? This is breakfast time, bitch! When you brothers is stiff as slugs exit ya wig You'll be next to B.I.G., Pac, it's destiny kid Before ya lid get popped, stop testin' me, bitch! [Chorus: Proof] Homie, you think you tough? (What?) Think we won't fuck you up? (Punk!) Even the innocent get pistol-whipped by this pistol grip (Punk!) Talkin' shit, you drunk? (What?) Think I won't fuck you up? (Punk?) We both deep, I ain't scared and I don't give a fuck (Jump!) [Verse 2: Proof] I ain't fail no games, homie don't even try We ain't bowin' down to no one, we gon' start a riot (yeah) Heart of fire, soul of ice, roll the dice, see what you get No advice all my life, I ain't leavin' this bitch I'm a man, I'm holdin' my ground, unloadin' these rounds At any clown approachin' my crown (brrrah!) I'ma keep it grimey, nothin' but killas seen behind me I'ma bully fully 'cuz your team is tiny If I was to crush you, God can’t save you; Bibles are nothin' This rifle I'm clutchin' to leave you stifled on crutches, hah I fight for my cousins that ain't even related Even I'll state it now, from life I leave you bleedin' and faded Hatin' made in my nature, I'm clappin' and clackin' your captain Smackin' faggots and act as a rapper with platinum status Ya liver flappin', I'm slappin' 'em backwards Half of these rappers' status to shadders Knowin' Proof and the Mathers has gathered an army It's Shady bandanas, after us the game is one Who in the matters get plain-fashioned brain damage The name that some forgot, D12 It ain't hard to feel, guard ya grill, it's real! [Chorus: Proof] Homie, you think you tough? (What?) Think we won't fuck you up? (Punk!) Even the innocent get pistol-whipped by this pistol grip (Punk!) Talkin' shit, you drunk? (What?) Think I won't fuck you up? (Punk?) We both deep, I ain't scared and I don't give a fuck (Jump!)