Lyrics
Oh, ladies and gentlemen The moment you've all been waiting for In this corner, weighing 175 pounds With a record of 17 rapes, 400 assaults, and four murders The undisputed, most diabolical villain in the world Slim Shady! So crack a bottle, let your body waddle Don't act like a snobby model, you just hit the lotto O-oh, o-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe Got one ridin' shotgun and no, not one of 'em got clothes Now, where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers? I noticed there's so many of 'em And there's really not that many of us And ladies love us, my posse's kickin' up dust It's on 'til the break of dawn And we're starting this party from dusk (Okay, let's go) Back with Andre the Giant, Mr. Elephant Tusk Fix your musk, you'll be just another one bit the dust Just one of my mother's sons who got thrown under the bus Kiss my butt, lick from unda cheese from under my nuts It disgusts me to see the game the way that it looks It's a must, I redeem my name and haters get mushed Bitches lust, man, they love me when I lay in the cut Fisticuffs, the lady give her eighty-some paper cuts Now picture us; it's ridiculous, you curse at the thought 'Cause when I spit the verse the shit gets worse than Worcestershire sauce If I could fit the words, it's picture perfect, works every time Every verse, every line, as simple as nursery rhymes It's elementary, the elephants have entered the room I venture to say we're the center of attention, it's true Not to mention back with a vengeance, so hence the signal Of the bat symbol, the platinum trio's back on you hoes So crack a bottle, let your body waddle Don't act like a snobby model you just hit the lotto O-oh o-oh, bitches hopping in my Tahoe Got one riding shotgun and no not one of 'em got clothes Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers? I notice there's so many of 'em And there's really not that many of us And ladies love us, my posse's kicking up dust It's on 'til the break of dawn And we're starting this party from dusk (Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. Dre) They see that low rider go by, they're like, "Oh my!" You ain't got to tell me why you're sick, 'cause I know why I dip through in that Six-Trey, like, "Sick 'em, Dre!" I'm an itch that they can't scratch, they're sick of me But hey, what else can I say? I love L.A. 'Cause over and above all, it's just another day And this one begins where the last one ends Pick up where we left off and get smashed again I'll be damned, just fucked around and crashed my Benz Drivin' 'round with a smashed front end, let's cash that one in Grab another one from out the stable The Monte Carlo, El Camino, or the El Dorado? The hell if I know, do I want leather seats or vinyl? Decisions, decisions, garage looks like Precision Collision Or Maaco, beats quake like Waco Just keep the bass low, speakers away from your face though So crack a bottle, let your body waddle Don't act like a snobby model you just hit the lotto O-oh o-oh, bitches hopping in my Tahoe Got one riding shotgun and no, not one of 'em got clothes Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers? I notice there's so many of 'em And there's really not that many of us And ladies love us, my posse's kicking up dust It's on 'til the break of dawn And we're starting this party from dusk (And I take great pleasure in introducing, 50 Cent!) It's bottle after bottle The money ain't a thang when you party with me It's what we into, it's simple We ball out of control like you wouldn't believe I'm the napalm, the bomb, the Don, I'm King Kong Get rolled on, wrapped up and reigned on I'm so calm, through Vietnam, ring the alarm Bring the Chandon, burn marijuan', do what you want Nigga, on and on, 'til the break of what? Get the paper, man, I'm cakin', you know I don't give a fuck I spend it like it don't mean nothin' Blow it like it's supposed to be blown Motherfucker, I'm grown I stunt, I style, I flash the shit I gets what the fuck I want, so what I trick? Fat-ass Birkin bags, some classy shit Jimmy Choo shoes; I say, "Move", a bitch move So crack a bottle, let your body waddle Don't act like a snobby model you just hit the lotto O-oh o-oh, bitches hopping in my Tahoe Got one riding shotgun and no not one of 'em got clothes Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers? I notice there's so many of 'em And there's really not that many of us And ladies love us, my posse's kicking up dust It's on 'til the break of dawn And we're starting this party from dusk
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