[Intro: 2 Chainz]
A.T.L., what’s up, shawty?
N.Y.C., yo-yo-yo, kid
D-Town, what up doe?
Tony!
[Verse 1: 2 Chainz & Eminem]
Standin’ on the speaker, toes brush Khalifa
Powder on the plate that turn your girl into Eureka
Remember, if I don’t see it, then I don’t believe it
I done did some pretty dumb things on the tequila
Birthday in Vegas, layin’ with my weezy
Asked to invite her friends, she like, “Boy, I don’t believe ya,”
I’m just tryna live and they turn into evil
My partner is a Crip, the only thing he eat is seafood
School of hard knocks, I can f**k around and teach you (Uh)
License to kill and I just got ‘еm renewed (Uh)
Spokе to Def Jam and they talkin’ ’bout a renote
[?], and he can pay me in crypto
Bored Ape Yacht Club, yeah, I’m Ricky Steamboat
And you know my vibe, I’m mixin’ mine with the pinot
I say scratch that, gone and bring it back like Preemo
Gone and bring it back like Preemo
You know my set, I’m throwin’ dollar signs
I lick her neck and turn the body to a water slide
I’m in the bottom of my bag like some hot fries
Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, that my top five
sh*t, don’t want me swaggin’ on this beat
Enough to make Rakim proud of me
You got my math and your b**ch ass post something negative, you coulda called me
I’m from the dark side, but the whip lightskin
I do what I wanna do like white men
I hit you in the f**king head with the mic stand
I f**k my girl in the day time on a night stand
You ain’t know that, did ya?
Real recognize real and you don’t look familiar
I’m from Riverdale Road, we ain’t got no river
Got the pole concealed behind the partition, listen
A trap nigga, I perform at bar mitzvah’s
A trap nigga, I perform at the Crystals
I ain’t gon’ fight, but I still tote pistols
Ain’t gon’ kill ya, all I got to do is whistle (*failed whistle noise*)
Damn, I think my whistle off (Off)
They’ve been plagiarising, they’ve been stealing sauce (Sauce)
Soon as I see ’em, I’ma pick ’em off
I got a beard but I must ask Ricky Ross (Huh?)
God took his time with me
Kingpins wanna sign with me
Gunshots is truly Atlanta
While things are goin’ left like Julius Randle
I got this sh*t lit, no need for a candle
Feel like Kyrie, I got this sh*t handled (Yeah)
Feel like Kyrie, I got this sh*t handled
[Verse 2: Eminem]
Walkin’ around your party, like where the party at? (Yo, where the party at?)
Yeah, Barcardi and ‘Gnac could lead to a cardiac
But I’m drunk and I give a f**k, like how Carti act
I’m already back, I just had to run to my car to yack
Headache, an Aleve, I’ma need eight of ’em
For pete’s sake, I’ve been steppin’ on leaf rakes again (Ow)
I keep wakin’ up in the bed with complete strangers (The f**k are you?)
And I eat Prazel get more chicks than Pete Davidson
Man, I can’t help it, I’m me, I got the Devil in me
Let me put it more delicately
f**k your feelings, I’m a felon, pussy, you’re jealous of me
Prolly ’cause my cerebellum’s a parabellum, pussy
Even if I swear to celibacy, I’d still be like a female that’s hooking (Why?)
Ain’t sh*t you can do to stop me from sellin’, pussy (Oh)
Yeah, warped mind, your rhymes are so f**kin’ washed up I call ’em shorelines (Woo)
But as long as a nine year-old’s mind is washable
I’ma search ’til I find the most awfullest line as possible (Yeah)
Mind is off, all I need is a small little pint of vodka
To be talked into tryna walk up inside of a Shriner’s hospital and *gunfire*
They’re tryna make Marshall the guy responsible
For little Joshua’s giant arsenal, like I’m also the reason his .9 is cocked
And he brought his tool and decides to hide it inside of his locker
‘Til the next time he’s picked on at school
But you’re out of your gourd if you’re thinkin’ that I ain’t killin’ this beat
I’m not even forcin’ myself to vomit, but if I had a f**kin’ eatin’ disorder
Or anorexia, believe me, I couldn’t body this more for ya (Yeah)
Man, I’m beyond childish when I’m on Valiums (Yeah)
Just like mom down’s ’em, they call it Munchausen (Why?)
‘Cause she hands me some, then says, “C’mon, chow, son
These are non-drowsen, I mean non-drowsy
But they’ll help you calm down some,”
So, before I zonk out, I’m tryna make Rob proud
I’m hopin’ this song riles him
I pop like nine thousand, I’m outy, five-thousand
(Oh), hold up (One more thing)
Spit syllables on the mic and it move like I’m at Drew’s
Even if I wanna lose, I’m in the news, even my interviews get like five million views
I get accused of misogyny because I will massage any b**ch just like a masseuse
Fixin’ NyQuil, [?], and [?] hide ’em inside of my shoes
Sike
[Outro: Eminem]
What the f**k? (I’m just playin’)
f**kin’ mumble rap