Throw It Up

[Intro: Yelawolf] Aye Boo get these motherfuckers and pass that Jack [Chorus: Gangsta Boo] I see you bitches talking loud but you ain't saying shit Get the fuck from round here, you don't rep my shit You ain't from my city, you don't know about this You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it, bitch Now throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up Throw it up, yeah, ho, you ain't ready for it, bitch Throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up, throw it up You ain't ready for it, bitch [Verse 1: Yelawolf] I already got, two cars in the yard that don't run So why would I wanna break shit down for you Better me confuse with the punchlines and bars that I launch Here the king of debauchery come, with a cracker dick To fuck you in that pussy carpet you munch If I'm not hardly the one You must be barely the one billionth Really you kidding, bitch I'm the prodigal son And I'm stunting like my Daddy D-dr-d-drinking like my Mama C-c-country like my uncles Stuttering like a CD in a donk BUMP, BUMP, BUMP, BUMP And I'm in a blue Chevy Running over motherfuckers 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 With a shank and a black can of paint to check the clerk Where the keys Bitch you better check your purse I gotta brick of herb And I hit the syrup And I'm feeling like I might just hit the curb So get the fuck outta my way buddy You don't wanna run around the chicken house with a heart of a puppy dog Yelawolf and Eminem shit Sufferin' succotash, yeah suck a dick bitch [Chorus: Gangsta Boo] I see you bitches talking loud but you ain't saying shit Get the fuck from round here, you don't rep my shit You ain't from my city, you don't know about this You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it, bitch Now throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up Throw it up, yeah, ho, you ain't ready for it, bitch Throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up, throw it up You ain't ready for it, bitch [Verse 2: Gangsta Boo] Bitch please you don't wanna step up to this Misses G-A-N-G-S-T-A Boo make a nigga hit his knees when I'm up in the building, preachin' to my children I don't be taking no shit from you haters You'll make me hurt one of your feelings Ha ha ha ha Nah nah ni nah nah Pick your face up off the floor I got you feeling sad now You be on that Hokiewag, Hokiewag is bullshit Run into this Gangsta, have your preacher at the pulpit bitch I was born on the Mississippi River Take no shit from a bitch or a nigga So, so crazy gotta fucked up temper Bi-pola', not Nicki I'm worser, I'll hurt ya I got a crazy-ass mind game Ma nigga, I'm a lion, untamed Hunt ya ass down in my jungle, I do this I tell them hoes, you ain't ready for it bitch [Chorus: Gangsta Boo] I see you bitches talking loud but you ain't saying shit Get the fuck from round here, you don't rep my shit You ain't from my city, you don't know about this You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it, bitch Now throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up Throw it up, yeah, ho, you ain't ready for it, bitch Throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up, throw it up You ain't ready for it, bitch [Verse 3: Eminem] Me and Yelawolf Tear the roof off this motherfucker You ain't got the umph 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 kicking my seat And I'm trying to 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 her face and Tell the bitch I'm a rapper, then I wack her In the head with a Whopper That I bought from BK, you expect me to be proper Bitch you better pop in a CD of me immediately slut, ho Skidda dee da da Prada, not a chance I was thinking about buying you some clothes But Target's 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 eight in hoes Oh, this is ugly boy swag Putting toe tags on you motherfucking 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 motherfuckin' diary of 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 fucked But I'm never gonna bite my tongue Little bitch, throw it up [Outro: Yelawolf & Eminem] What the fuck is this, White dog Yo Yo, what' up? What' up? Uh, you do that verse? Yeah, I just killed that shit What? Nah, nothin'. Urm, yo, you know what I was thinking, man? I think the one thing that er... that the album don't have That might be missing Is like er... a song for, like, for girls Uh, what do you mean? For like bitches? Nah, girls. Like a love song No?! We need one! Like—love song, love song? Yeah, man, bitches like love songs!