Eminem, Dr. Dre, JAY-Z, 50 Cent, Stat Quo, Ca$his - My Syllables lyrics

It is not about lyrics anymore
It's about a hot beat and a catchy hook

If we gotta dumb down our style and A-B-C it
Then so be it, 'cause nowadays
These kids just
Don't give a shit 'bout lyrics
All they wanna hear is a beat and that's it
Long as they can go to
The club and get blitzed
Pick up some chicks and get some digit's
And the DJ's playing them hit's
"Oh, this my jam! This my shit!
We don't know a word to a verse
All we know is the chorus
'Cause the chorus repeats the same
Four words for us" and the song's ginormous
The whole formula's switched
'Cause we don't know anymore what are hit's
Is it the beat? Is it the rap?
Is it a finger snap or the same 808 clap?


And how do we adapt and get TRL votes
When thirteen-year-olds control the remotes?
And Ashlee's got a brand new nose
We gotta put some new em-pha-sis
On our syl la la-bles

If the emphasis on the compact
Disc is in the beat
Then I'm gon' feature Em and get rich
And let Dre mix the shit
And drive off in the
Range Ro' 'Cause everywhere
I go they love the "bling-bling" flow!
Bang bang, look at the way my chain glow
The ring on my fing' cost your
Man a lot of dough (Oh)
The fuck am I bustin' my brain fo'?
It's just the way the game go and, oh
It takes two to tango
You call this a lame flow?
You bought the shit
I guess you to blame too
I just found an angle (Ha ha ha)
No more reality flow
I'm tryna time my album dropping
With a reality show
Cock the MAC-11 in front of Hot 97
And call my publicist
Tell her we in press heaven (Ha ha)
No one gives a shit except
Some kids that just got into
Sex on the Internet
So you want the chatroom or
The house in Malibu?
Em, your emphasis is on the
Wrong syl la la-ble

They said thirty's the new twenty, funny
Must mean forty's the new thirty, interesting
'Cause ever since then, it's
Been, in a sense, an extension
For veteran rappers that are
Better than half of
The shit comin' out right now, it's all trash
The torch is gonna burn out
Before it gets passed
JAY said it's his last, then 50 and Em
Then what? Detox drops, what do we got then?
So now our whole camps is runnin' around
Scrambling over what to do
Gamblin' every time we put a record out
Just lookin' for that hook (Wait, Dre, look)

Shorty, I love you and you love me too
We were meant to be
'Cause, shorty, you love me
And I love you too
And I promise I'll be true to you

Go shawty, it's your birthday (Woo)
You made it just in time to hear my wordplay
It's the kid that flip flows
Who used to flip O's and run G for days
You should see how I get hoes
I'm international
I get my dick licked 'round the globe
I'm sick right into shows, ridin' on lolos
(yeah) puffin' on coco, my bitch in Manolos
Don't fuck with the dodos
That's slang for dumb hoes (Oh)
I'm playin', I ain't got time to joke, joke
You fuck around, you could
Get your ass smoked, loc
It's not a game, me, B, I ain't playin'
Beat behind me playin'
So you don't hear anyway
You don't hear what I'm sayin'
Me fin-nini na, fee-fi-fididee yay
Just give me my check and I'll be on my way
Sunny, bunny, money and funny
You ain't even listening and I
Just took your money (Ha)

There once was a time everywhere you turned
('Where you turned)
Shady-Aftermath was all you heard
But they say 50 sang too much
And Em got soft (Got soft)
And they say Dre just fell the fuck off (Woo)
Well, fuck the fuck-offs! All y'all eat salt
Be mad, we back, fresh up outta the vault
Oh! New syl la la-bles, eat ball
You fuck-offs your house, your bitch
I'm getting sucked off
East, South, Midwest, even up North
Falling victim to wax, spitting
Bring out the white chalk
All for the gingerbread
We get it and get lost catch me if you can
I'm runnin' past while y'all walk

Shady made me for bringin' it back
'Fore the history of rap is gone with a snap
A snare and a clap
What happened to just spittin'
'Bout livin' in the motherfuckin'
City you at?
In the grimiest condition, I breathe in drama
King Mathers and Cash me that's free karma
I'm everything, anything you can never be
It's a hidden rhyme of the
Month deep in the beef
I speak with a piece, no peace on my mind
I repeat every evil deed done of mine (yeah)
No rest contest, contract to sign
By blood, I'm in this squad for life
Air out my windpipes, and I just chime
I'm the reason you guys won't say that line
I'm crazy, renegade like Em and Jay-Z
I'm Rosemary's baby, I want you to hate me

Shorty, I love you and you love me too
We were meant to be
'Cause, shorty, you love me
And I love you too
And I promise I'll be true to you

It is not about lyrics anymore
It is not about lyrics anymore
It's about a hot beat, a hot beat
It's about a hot beat, a hot beat
A hot-hot-hot beat and a catchy hook
A hot-hot-hot beat and a catchy hook
Nobody gives a damn about them syllables
Syl la la-bles, whatever they are
I don't care if you gotta rhyme "schmoe
" "mo, " "Joe, " "toe, " and "glow"
Now, get out there and
Sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and
Sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and
Sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and
Sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and
Sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and
Sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and
Sell some goddamn records!
Now, get out there and sell some