Shady CXVPHER

[Directed by Syndrome] [Verse 1: KXNG Crooked] KXNG Crooked, Eastside, Long Beach, California My name is KXNG Crooked I snap on you rappers often When I'm spazzin' I'm just gettin' my passionate point across Like a hood cat clappin' his hands when he talkin' Now that I got your attention, I feel I should really mention Don't come around here flossin', Big Willies, we Willie Lynch 'em Pull out the chopper, rappers hittin' the ground Like every bar's a bullet, when I pull it, it sound like Ba-da-da-da-da-da-da a couple of bullets are comin' your way Then it jam, like God damn Then I pick up somethin' quicker, start killin' everything in the vicinity The proximity, the Glocksimity, we on Yosemite Sam Bam, bam your body drop, Van Damme, karate chop The Beretta's a better competitor Pop pop turn your sweater to a crop top Killin' you and whoever in that drop top Etcetera, etcetera and it will not stop Just shoot, shoot like doot doot And beaucoup, beaucoup, I'm cuckoo I'm a star goin' to war with you clones like Count Dooku I'm worlds apart from you rappers Like I walk in the booth rockin' a biosuit made of plastic And NASA's galactic elastic travelin' through space, interstellar rapping Broadcastin' from uninhibited planets When I come back, that's it You see a flash in the sky, it's that nigga, I When I land, you wack niggas die And your casket is your last hit You wack bitch, fuckin' bastard Back to the hand clappin' You die quicker than Darren Wilson walkin' through Ferguson Dressed like the grand dragon of the Klan Passin' niggas with pants saggin' With they hand on a black Magnum To clap him backwards So their last words is "kcuf meht nmad saggin" That's backwards for "fuck them damn niggas" Buck them damn triggers You charge us, bodies fill up them damn Rivers 'Cause everybody wanna be the best rapper alive But I only like dead rappers Compare me to the best rappers who died And you rappers I used to look up to I gotta cancel you now Like Simon Cowell, I can't let you ex-factors survive Nah, the time's right and they finally limelightin' the god of this rhyme writin' My mic can only be likened to Poseidon's trident and Zeus' lightnin' strike And my metaphors are what Thor was to the Norse viking I'm a born titan and at-point kill 'em like swordfightin' I'm slicin' organs with songwritin', I dwarf giants I hope I'm rubbin' you pussies wrong sort of like poor dykin' I smoke philosophy, I snort science That mean I'm higher than higher learnin', look in my eyes That's where the fire's burnin' Try to deny a music messiah's returnin' You die and you fry in my iron furnace I am on my get rich or die tryin' like when Em was signin' Curtis 'Cause I am murderous [Verse 2: Joe Budden] Joe Budden, Jersey City, New Jersey Now we can do this a couple of different ways, it really depends Could give them classic NY jeans over the Timbs Or I could spit about my car and how it sit on the rims Or I could tell you why I'm hot and disappear like MIMS But the bars there, put that on God, ask a atheist And if I ain't the bomb at least I'm in the blast radius I'm beating these kids' indictment, shit, I like the terror APB on my actions, I'm in the viking era Moment of truth, I give you facts right now Fuck this cypher, my mind ain't on rap right now So it's fuck metaphors and punches, all the witty shit Got a missing uncle and another need a kidney flip Face says I been stressed I got an aunt getting her ass kicked by MS Nigga, why am I here? For the look, for the promo Shit that bothered from the start 'Cause the cancer left his lungs and it's on my grandfather's heart Yeah, just not the side that the beat is on I'm supposed to put that to the side when the beat is on I'm planning the funeral, I'm getting the hearse ready These niggas only wanna ask me if the verse is ready Not a how do I feel, not a how do I deal If that’s life, then nigga, how is it real? These last couple of days I've been speaking to my peers Giving them cries for help, I guess they need to see the tears But wait, wildest part of all of that is They'll shoot a suicidal rapper right here on the bridge But fuck it, gotta pardon 'em, shout out to my squad and 'em House Gang, Shady, I'm gone, nigga, my job is done [Verse 3: Yelawolf] Yelawolf, Gadsden, Alabama My name is Wayne, I'm from Alabama Here's the back story: I just fell off the turnip truck with Ernest Tubb I'm 33, I've got 3 kids and I just popped 3 pills I don't know which one's which or what it's for Safety ain't really a habit I've formed I still smoke to the cigarette butt I still drink till I end up being that klutz Clumsy, self-destructive dummy Stumbling over my words, mumbling I'll probably do it tonight Leave the bar, leave the car And pass out like a fetus in a jar with my feet up to the stars And dream about that light that leads up to the lord I have nightmares about my momma getting beat up in the yard Wake up feeling like half a human Hit the studio and unleash this guilt and regret For my lack of union between rap, you and the rock and roll community But unity between country music and MCs, I'm claiming immunity Still I'm working, sawing, milling this tree Building this house exactly the way Charlemagne tha god and Lord Jamar thought it would be Wait a minute... the lord and the god hate me Jesus Christ, I am the white devil! Nah... I'm still working, sawing, milling this tree Building this house exactly the way I thought it should be Wanna take a tour? Let's see I've got floor-to-ceiling windows and a cabin-style mansion Bucks, bears, trucks, boats, tires, spares, four-wheelers Three-wheelers, two-wheelers, a drug dealer on call Plaques on the wall, racks on the wall for my guns on the wall Lift kits, low riders, chop shops, hi tops, low tops, cowboy boots Dixie flags, American flags, Slumerican tags on my Slumerican ass CEO I've got my name on the bathrobe, and the flame on the back porch is lit Guess who's coming to dinner? André 3000 and Hank the Third, go figure I've got two stand-up jetskis, a top pedigree horse, just to pet and feed of course Who rides a horse in Nashville? I might I've got bicycles for the kids, tricycles for the babies M-80s, bottle rockets, bottles in my pocket Moonshine, gold watches, gold rings All fake, no bling, don't hate, that's my thing I've got new clothes, old clothes, vintage, tremendous, endless style Goodwill loves me Mackle-more than you I've got flat screen TVs, with skate videos on repeat All the latest CDs, mp3s, and Beats by Dre Thank you very much, Jimmy Iovine for the check I've got a black woman fine as she can be FeFe with a ring on her finger that could give sight to the blind A 5, a 10, a couple hundreds layin' on the counter I don't know where that came from I got artwork from hard work, yardworkers for yard work Don't look under the tarp, sir I'm growin' weed for my mama there I've got a paved driveway and photos in the hallway of me on my Harley And I did it my way See, hip-hop is what you make of it And I'm makin' a lot of it See that's a quadruple entendre, Jay Z eat your heart out [Verse 4: Joell Ortiz] Joell Ortiz, Brooklyn, New York But these cyphers? I treat 'em like they a war; don't want no mediators Nah, this that grow up in the P's behavior, next door to the greasy neighbors People thank you, I do this for all the mean creators I was someone who never needed favors to get where I'm at Now they deem me a savior But to be honest I ain't feelin' like that, man I just really like rap Y'all lucky, trust me I'm opposite the hands of Sandusky With the shit that my pen state, these rappers can't touch me Ugly? Shit, you serious? I'm hideous I was better than all you silly kids while trying to figure out just who I really is As a younger dude, life was somethin' rude I barely made it to the first like a Cutler move No rubber groove on my shoes led to fights, so suspensions I had 3 in one week, yeah that was public school Did I say 3 in 1? That's funny 'cause there's 4 of us in the Slaughter That's a 3 and 1, I learned that in public school too Like what's in between a 3 and 1 and House Gang, I spoke to all 3 on 1 call Like I dropped 2 albums and #3 is 1 second from bein' done Just need y'all 3 to send me 1 verse apiece For this Heatmakerz beat and Brother's Keeper 1 Simple mathematics, I'm addin' up to all these rap addicts I don't like to divide dough so I multiply flow And subtract maggots Like a brand new Craftmatic, boy I'm back at it Smokin' these new boys like my last habit Dabnabbit I tried to quit but everything I kick's like the last dragon Hoes suckin' my drummer dick, they on my bandwagon I just gotta laugh 'cause y'all pushin' a lot of swag I'm pushin' this big ole Hearse, don't get body bagged [Verse 5: Royce Da 5'9"] Royce Da 5'9", Detroit, gah These new rappers be askin' me Why I don't be hangin' out where they be hangin' out I tell 'em, I say, "Lil nigga, listen here;" If I don't got no business there, I don't got no business there See there's a difference here You hustlin' so you can be seen Nigga I'm grindin' so I can disappear I don't do it like other rappers do When it's on time, it's skull and bone signs at the stu We got guns you only find on your cheat code screen If you think I remind you of any of these niggas you wildin' out Like Chico Bean When there's drama I don't ask no questions, I just clap in that direction I look at this gat like it's a actual accessory I'm anti-social so relax when you step to me Nigga I shoot the breeze with actual weaponry Your lil' stare downs won't fare well I got a pale conscience, I'm the grey area The last person I had a bond with was a bail bondsman Now imagine me hangin' with y'all and we rappin' on the same song Nigga I'd rather juggle a couple of chainsaws Or run through hell with a pair of gasoline Hanes on I'm a star but not on some I wanna be a star kinda shit The only celebrity who give a fuck less than me is Marshawn Lynch Glock in the stash as a backup but the MAC'll burst Cripple your style, your first born child'll come out With a colostomy bag as the afterbirth I don't give a fuck Nigga I'll show up to Beyonce's show posin' as Jay Z Stagger in your studio session with a bomb strapped to my chest Lookin' like Omarion holdin' his baby Jump in the 4 door Mercedes with a .44 listenin' to JoJo and K-Ci Drinkin' and sniffin' enough blow that it got me thinkin' I can exchange sicknesses Maybe, this ebola for rabies That's it, just livin' the rapper life Banana clip in the air, lookin' like it's 'bout to start singin' it's MAC tonight MACs, I use this MAC as a component for thugs rollin' up I got this MAC on and you better stay in that corner 'Cause shit can turn into that song except I don't give a fuck what day it is I'll have this club goin' up, fuck with me Mack magnet, attractin' enormous green Slap this clip in this gat then call this arm Christy Mack 'Cause this bitch is that war machine Life of a giant, but who needs size when you're wack and your team's soft Drag your girl down this hill 'til she admits that it feels like she's jackin' the beanstalk We both got marketing plans Yours is to sell records and try to net more than you gross before Mine is to punch you in your face if you ever disrespect me And then go and invest into a grocery store Rolled up with the Smith & Wesson and drew on you like let's fight now I do numbers, I turn you and your crew into two plumbers Translation, get your shit together and pipe down Fuck a mic, I don't write, I chew and spit I'll shoot you and your sis if you insist I got my eyes on the sparrow Silencer's so big it look like I got Bobby Shmurda tied to the front of the barrel And he doin' this [Verse 6: Eminem] My name is Marshall, I'm reppin' that motherfuckin' Motor City, bitch I just turned Slaughterhouse to a quintet Began to trend-set, murdered a friend's pet Made shit as ill as it can get went in-depth Like a fucking vignette and two bars skins wet I'm already covered in sweat and I wasn't even ready to come in yet AHH, let me set this drink down Beat up a gal, start beef with her pal Probably be wild 'til I'm wrinkled and senile And "Rap God" was a freestyle Off the top of the dome piece while I was 'sleep on the couch And I'm freestyling now I need a towel, sweat leaks from my brow It's burning my eyes, my cerebral is foul 'Cause shit I'm thinking about should be illegal I need my head banned like the guy who left Cleveland Ohio And went to South Beach with his talents Scream "fuck you" on the way out and wink with a smile This whole game can eat a dick, I'm going back deep underground But right now I'm back on that bullshit and you I'm singling out 'Cause you're so fucking outdated you should mingle a while What the fuck is this clusterfuck of busters? Bunch of Buster Douglas', motherfuckers is one hit wonders One swing and you're crowned Knocked one out the park, one catchy jingle and now You think you fucking with me 'cause you sold like 300 thou? Bitch, I can jump without my feet ever leaving the ground Reach up, swing from a cloud with 3 thousand people around Evil and vile enough to leap in the crowd And heave a child in a sinkhole on Cinco de Mayo When I'm sprinkled in pico de gallo Mardi Gras beads in a towel I just made that up I don't know much Spanish, I'm not bilingual But I'll show you a Mexican stand off Between just these two amigos 'Cause neither really wants to say what we're thinking out loud But I sure as fuck think I know how to read body English, no doubt 'Cause we're trying to kill each other, but lyrically The fuck is humility? What is a real emcee? Royce, he came up in this shit with me Never spit that hustler shit, it wasn't a fit for me Let them adjust 'til they just get the gist of me Just not giving a fuck and plus with the history Of muscular distrophy, it wasn't a mystery Why this middle finger was stuck in this upward positioning So what in the fuck is a list to me? I'm used to not being on it, I expect it out 'em Heck wit' 'em, I get my respect without 'em Ain't really been into diamonds since I put my first record out But I could put a chain around my second album And wear it as a neck medallion Became a millionaire, went downhill from there Became civil, office swivel chair, sterling silverware Screaming life is still unfair til I get a real career The fuck am I gonna do until then? This job is too fulfilling Two ga-jillion pairs of super villain shoes to fill in A mood to kill till I plow my Coupe de Ville Into some children at the food pavilion at Build-A-Bear Warrior's mind, I’m pro-hydrocodone euphoria In the Drug Emporium line, I'm soaring I'm pouring Vicodin four at a time ignoring the warning signs on 'em 'fore I go four wheeler riding Gory and violent, horrifying You surely won't find no one more abhorring Than I am with this retaliatory of rhyming for Gloria Steinem But I finger her like a witness, show me a line-up I usually am abusive, but excuse me, ma'am I guess I must've threw you for a loop like Toucan Sam When I said I could use the sample 'cause you's a tramp But look how you react to this trigger like When I call you a bigger dyke than the Hoover Dam You're playing right into Lex Luthor's hand It's such a ruthless plan, might even lose a fan But fuck it, Superman wouldn't change in a phone booth for Stan I'm a brand new being like Grand Puba's band Happy as Anderson Cooper having a tuba crammed In his pooper with lubricant...wait, that's too... I can't Since honesty is the best policy I'll give you the old college try Try to acknowledge my mistakes, probably won't qualify As a gentleman and a scholar, but it's time that I swallow pride And say that I'm sorry, sorry I can't apologize I think of all them times I compromised my bottom lines And thought of rhymes that sodomized your daughter's minds Then I'm like dollar signs But I may fight for gay rights especially if they dyke Is more of a knockout than Janay Rice Play nice, bitch, I'll punch Lana Del Rey right In the face twice like Ray Rice in broad daylight In plain sight of the elevator surveillance Til her head is banged on the railing Then celebrate with the Ravens Never date an assailant who self-medicates with inhalants I'd meditate, but I may need a better way to escape The aggression, rage and the anger Cause leg restraints on the ankles Heavy weights and an anchor with handcuffs in chains Just ain't enough to contain it But I'd still get the same respect as Jay if I came on Stage in a fucking negligée everyday and Liz Claiborne Devastated from breakup with Kate Hudson Wait slut, your friends, what are they gonna say 'Cause makeup ain't gonna cover That eye that's seven-eighths of the way shut Peppersprayed with your face cut Made my bank like a lay up Off these effing skanks on the way up Oh, bitch thinks she's heaven-sent It's evident that she ain't never been with seven inches Yes, I said seven, I measured it Seven inches from the floor While I'm standing on the fourth floor balcony At the Sheraton while I'm stretching it Bitch, I'm a pimp so a limp dick is all you'll ever get So if she's hesitant to get the hint I'll bet you that I get the message sent who she's messing with Hella quick when I tell a chick not to ever use sex as a weapon When I step in and beat the wretched wench with a crescent wrench Existential detriment to a lesbian devil And the unpleasant stench of an estrogen level A separatist like a Chechnian rebel Impressionist with a pencil A pessimist, with his lips pressed against The edge of this Red Bull Pedal to the metal I'm rippin' this shit cause right away I'll give it to a bitch like a pedestrian, deadly as ever You see what kind of effects she has on the opposite sex when I push her flexible little sexy ass through a plate of plexiglass SHADYXV as perplexing as The last fifteen years and I'm predicting my next relapse When I spit these lyrics so don't look at me weird When I start shifting gears and shit re-smears all over Britney Spears And these little Disney queers Who use chicks for beards? Just made that up too... Oh and the Shady 2.0 We wrote it in roman numerals like they do for the Super Bowls 'Cause it's supposed to confuse you hoes So flows lose you as usual, so juvenile 2 year old when I go to the studio It's only music but don't be foolish though You don't know me through it ho but you can blow me to it though In my homie's Buick Been known to lose it though so if I overdo it you drove me to it When I step in the vocal booth like I'm supposed to do And murder you on a fuckin' track like Tony Stewart In one take, if I fuck up and I don't redo it You couldn't sound grown on a beat if you were moaning to it The day I don't say fuck you (w)all, you can throw me through it Rootinest-tootinest, shootin' this from the hip With the sentiments, Eminem isn't penning them for the women I'm an enemy to them and the epitome of an inconsiderate idiot But they consider me equivalent to chlamydia They tryna get rid of me gadzooks But I stiggity stand for the figgity flag Of the United States and the freedom, I distribute these raps through And if I catch you doing anything Hindering or prohibiting that after I get me the Tattoo of your lips on my ass I'ma be literally Pickin' up and deliberately whippin' the Statue of Liberty at you, woo [Outro: Eminem] Fuck it Got it somewhere in there probably, I don't know