||Yes | No
|If y'all don't see me in da hood, it's cause I'm doin' this man.
(Obie Trice) Niggas I'm still grindin' (yeah). I'm still hearin' them sirens. I'm still gettin chased by those lights. Only da lights line, and my mic's on and da time is none beause im writin' more. And I ain't here to meet a soul in this business. I'm here to eat and speak until these hoes feel this. And I can't let y'all derail me man. I got young Kobe homie. You gotta let go of Obie. 'Cause Obie be back (ain't goin' nowhere). We get them craps goin' on and dat yak goin on. Soon as a nigga touch down back from torn, its whatever, I put dat on da chedder man. And in da mean time, it's Jimmy iveen time. Chase cheese ryme 'til my voice give out. This is it my niggas that's what we boast about. Now I'm here, so shut yo mutha fuckin' mouth, now show me love bitch.
(Chorus)x2 I just wanna love ya, for the rest of my life. I wanna hold you through the mornin', and hold you through the night.
(Eminem) There's a certain mystique when I speak, that you notice that's sort of unique, 'cause you know it's me. My poetry's deep, and im stillmatic, the way i flow to this beat. You can't sit still. It's like tryin' to smoke crack and go to sleep, I'm strapped. It's knowin' any minute I could snap. I'm the equivelent of what would happen if Bush rapped. I bully these rappers so bad lyrically. It ain't even funny. I ain't even hungry it ain't even money. You can't pay me enough for you to play me. It's cockamayne. You just ain't zaney enough, to rock wit Shady. My noodle is cockadoodle, my clock's coucou, I got srews loose, yeah the whole kit n caboodle . I'm just brutal. There's no rumor I'm numero uno. Assume it. There's no humer in it no more, you know, I'm rollin' wit a swollen bowling ball in my bag. You need a fag, to come and tear a new hole in my ass. You better love me, bitch
My boys, is crazy in da hood. They holla my name. If it ain't about da flow it's 'bout da stones in da chain. If I was you, I'd love me too I roll like a boss. 911 Porsce, same color as cranberry sauce. I ain't gon front, I thought R. Kelly was da shit. Let me find out he fuckin' 'round wit bowwow bitch. Niggas eatin' popcorn right, rewindin' the tape. Now shorty momma in da precent, hollerin' rape. I'm convinced man somthin' really wrong wit these hoes. I thought Lil Kim was hot 'til she started fuckin' wit her nose. Used to listen to Lauren Hill, and tap my feet. 'Till da bitch came out wit a CD, and ain't have no beat. And dat boy D'Angelo, he determined not fail. Dat nigga went butt ass, for his record to sell. My back shot to help Ashanti, hit them high notes. and Big Ben taught Charlie B. more than deep throat.