[Intro]
Yeah… uhhh…
Capone… Dirty Dozen…
La la la la la la
It don't matter
[Verse 1: Shane Capone]
We bringin' twenty nine grams, uncut without the sack
Make them guns clap all in ya back like spinal tap
313 making this rap game an all out murder sport
Send some hot shit sidelining through your transport
Now what the fuck you thought, we still cock them bloody pistols
Cooking all you fake motherfuckers without the crisco
Up in the Mo you come up missing like Jimmy Hoffa
We mafia, connected to the mob like Frank Sinatra
What the fuck is stopin' ya from going rounds with the throwdown
I get Wyatt Earp up in these cowards without a showdown
I'm high a fuck and I'm rollin' right past ya
Blastin ya all in that ass like colon cancer
You make money? Motherfucker we take money
Breakin heads for this cheddar they ain't shit here funny
Why work a nine to five when you can rob for twice the price?
Hittin' motherfuckers daily like an Oakland bank heist
[Verse 2: Swift]
That Dirty Dozen renegade, you done pulled the pin out my grenade
.38's and move yo' shit up out the way
You niggas won't forget about McVey, you got something to say
Spit it out today and watch these slugs spray
From these ten black fingers hugging these deadly millimeters
It'll make Jeff Dahlmer's look like he caught a misdemeanor
See I'm dirty, so, I don't need to buy a pistol cleaner
An offical beater, now, let me see you with your heater
You'll get whipped with it, tell them motherfuckers Swift did it
If you packin' something special in your crib then bitch get it
I'm physically fitted to run yo' digits, when I'm out walkin'
They get get scared of the dark just like some biggets
Shooting me is like the lotto, you ain't gone hit it
I'm a treat your skull like the Red Sea and split it
I got you scared of us nigga admit it
Be prepared to bust or you finished if you don't handle your business
[Chorus]
You got a problem with Shane Capone
You got a problem with D12
You got a problem with Shane Capone
You got a problem with D12
[Verse 3: Bizarre]
I'm that niggas that you ain't seen recent
Pull out a nine, shoot up the twelfth percent
I got different ways that I can get rid of ya
My dick burns leaving nasty clymitia
I battle ten MCs in my jail cell
Your style's worthless like old garage sells
Fuck around and get shot with this verbal weapon
My dick's so long, fuckin' up bitches intestines
Fuck the chrome I'll diss you on the microphone
Break out a poem break ya grandmother's collarbone
Now who the fuck wanna fuck with a nigga who don't give a fuck
About a nasty ass slut, Bizarre fuck her in the butt!
Look at all the drugs I'm abusing
Battle me you'll get burned like the cell phone I'm using
Big nigga from the midwest, smokin budda-zest
Headed to jail for family
[Chorus]
You got a problem with Shane Capone
You got a problem with D12
You got a problem with Shane Capone
You got a problem with D12
[Verse 4: Kuniva]
Right in the middle of your front porch I'll take a piss
Everybody I plan to slap yo' I make a list
I tie you up, whoever wanna torture you take a shift
Over your head full strength, break a brick
A fo' five is louder then the nine ain't it Swift
Rush the liquor store, I grab the forty, I got the fifth
Bizarre you cockin the gun wrong take the clip
What the fuck you talkin about I just wanna rape the bitch
Run in my house you smell dead bodies take a whiff
Denaun couldn't stand it, he just threw up his chicken strips
Took a trip last week with this Jamacian chick
Tied her up and made her drink warm water and bacon bits
I ain't scared of y'all motherfucker, then why you shakin' bitch!
Break both of ya legs in different directions, make a wish
I got a bottle of amonia yo' take a sniff
I'll put ya album under my ass and take a shit
[Verse 5: Kon Artist]
I'm furious about my last date, she wouldn't raped
They called it murder, guess I used too much duct tape
Relentless with an AK, your man Dre
Caught it right through his celly while he was talkin' to his mom (Hey!)
I guess it's safe to say that I love violence
Sexy, money and drugs, rap and remote islands
Okay, I might just be a little out of line
By tellin' you that everything that you own is mine
(But what) But I was born feet first, smoke forty and drink weed
Got a fetish for fuckin' hoes 'til they ass bleed
With knock knees is how I leave half these bitches
With the craft of witches, I cast spells that burn your britches
Told you snitches that burning bridges would earn you ditches
But you ain't listen now you in fetal positions missing
And you probably coulda got away but naw you had to run your mouth
And got fed to a pack of wolves like an entree
I'm still riding bikes naked and I'm never gonna stop
Until I'm pulled over and frisked by a lady cop
We just a little past great and y'all just moving up
Like Weezy and George we rip mics with gin in our cups
[Chorus]
You got a problem with Shane Capone
You got a problem with D12
You got a problem with Shane Capone
You got a problem with D12
