Shady Records, Eminem, Yelawolf, Slaughterhouse - Shady 2.0 Cypher (2011 BET Hip-Hop Awards) lyrics

Welcome to Detroit
This is the BET, Shady 20 Cypher 2011
Myself, Slaughterhouse, and Yelawolf
White Dawg, get 'em!
(Thank you, cracker king)

Yeah put these mothafuckas in a box
Then I send 'em away
Put 'em in a gray 'llac and pop the trunk
Ayy, throw 'em in the back, jack ha
Dig 'em a grave
Put a brick inside that Xerox when
I print up a page movin' keys, I can relate
'cause I live in a cage
I throw up the A, I take 'em to school
I give 'em a grade
An easy E for effort that's WWA
White with an attitude
Alphabet soup is on my plate
All I got is Zs, they sleepin' on me
I can't get 'em awake


I spoon feed 'em a sound in a
Room full of deceivers and clowns
Who believe in makin' it rain 'cause
All they see is the clouds
And I watch from the couch of
The VIP like a potato
With a bunch of meatheads like, "Fuck it
I'll just feed 'em a cow"
Plenty of white boys to pick from this year
But before you pick a pepper
You better pick up your heater
'Cause even Peter Piper could pick up a mic
But what it's like to pick a fight with me
Is like puttin' Nikes on a cheetah
Better speed up
Or at least in my case Adidas
I'm out this bitch
Drinkin' Sprite by the two-liter
Holler! Shady Records

Say I'm from the new school i'ma say
"Check your tone and watch your mouth!"
If they teachin' how to Dougie
I'm condonin' droppin' out
Forced to wild, y'all birthed me
Then gave me up
I just perfected being Hip-Hop's foster
Child now check it
Don't blame y'all for being trash
Fans are coppin' it
The radio's the crime scene
The masses are the hostages
In my youth I'd throw shots
The fad was dodgin' it
I'm grown, I ain't watchin' the throne
I'm sabotagin' it
You see that four headed monster
In the storm looms?
Snipe 'em from a distance the
Scope got a long zoom
You Super Mario thugs is in the wrong room
Gotta figure here you won't get
Bigger if you on shrooms
If it was left to me
I'd revive what the game be 'bout
I'd have took the wine outta Amy house
Enough raps from you scrub cats
'bout cockin' a snub back
Wayne couldn't teach me how to love that
But, I got this chick from uptown
She my summer bunny
Both parents broke, but she come from money
Think my bread is her paper to burn
So I lock her out
And now she doubt David is Stern she so bad
I make her hit the telly from a taxi
Then dead her in the Holiday Inn
Learned that from Max B
That's why the haters envy
Kinda wanna send me llamas
I made it right before their eyes
Like I was Benihana's is it me
Or is what I'm hearing just pitiful?
Airwaves the same, now the stereo's typical
My skin's thick, so the critics ignored
So unafraid to die you'd think
I did it before
The boy's Rodman with the trash talk
Magic or Walt with the black ball
Way I bounce off the asphalt with cat paws
Glass jaw hood of your mask will be
The Blackfoot with no passport
Body be found in a mansion
In one of my trapdoors if punks had award
You status whores categore
Probably be that of awards
Between Michael Rapaport and Kenny Lattimore
I know Hip-Hop's alive and well if it died
You other crews wouldn't survive the smell

Ladies and gentlemen (You scared now?)
Make that face at 'em, dog! Crooked I
Get 'em!

I spot a victim
The plot'll thicken when the clock is tickin'
I caught him slippin', I gotta
Give him a shot, i hit him
With proper spittin'
Hottest writtens and compositions
So competition's a contradiction
Somebody mention they got a Crooked
Highly fiction
We probly different, got Gotti henchmen
Opposition, I'll body quick
As Bugatti engines
I'm on a mission to get richer
The sickest lyric-kicker
Diggin' a ditch for different spitters
Weak lyricists get disfigured
Sip liquor, spit like a sick mixture
Of Notorious, Pun and L get the big picture?
The poster, I'll roast ya
My mind so deadly it's just like the
Beanie is close to a holster
It's over, control my whole coastal region
Like I'm supposed to
Flow is goin' postal even
Open season, heart close to freezin'
Ruthless as Eazy, nigga, approach
I'm squeezin'
Believe me, dopest West-Coaster breathin'
So most y'all hope I'm vegan nope
I'm beefin' rappers need to keep it trill
Give me a beat to kill
Too many people still eatin' sleeping pills
People sleepin' on my ether skills
And y'all ain't even real
You 'bout to die in this cypher
Before you die you should do the
Jada and leave a will, for real

I ain't a rap dude, I'm a dude who rap
Before this I was movin' crack
Killers y'all become when y'all rhyme
I salute and dap
And if I blink, they'll remove
Your snaps, you ain't cool, you wack
With your foolish act
Skinny jeans don't mean your ass shoot
It means your booty claps, haha
Don't play like Tyler Perry
This the Slaughterhouse of pain, flow brown
Tight and heavy
When it come to sixteens, I'm a fiend
Seen in the studio near a
Needle with a mean lean
Probably writin' bars to Nas' "Thief's Theme
" gettin' my yaowa on
Man, all these Olajuwons, we the dream team
This is an all day slaughter
They fiendin' for us to break
Like Beyonce's water
The four quarters doin' all the eatin'
And y'all gotta know why I made the cut
I'm Puerto Rican ortiz keep the fire ready
And tryna put me out's like tryna
Steal a transvestite from Eddie

Ha ha hahahaha hahaha a'ight (Ayo) yeah, Joe
All right, go ahead, rap lyrical miracles

I'm do-or-die dope
And you can make the sticker sittin' on the
Door of that Phantom your suicide note
Hi, Rihanna, is Nicki livin' witchu?
Let me know so I can
Buy binoculars and telescopes
Hi, Rihanna, I don't need to know you better
You tell me you love my music again
We go together
Bye, Rihanna now back to y'all fools
We rock out
Like the outside of a guitar school
Thousand dollar frames
I prefer to see the world through
Don't ask me nuttin' 'bout Budden
I beat my girl too
You aks me why do I keep her
I say it's cheaper to
That's why I ride around in a Rolls
Like Wiz Khalifa do rappers, I'm your daddy
I tell you straight as this
You don't kill, but your father will
Like Jaden Smith
I tell you like I tell my Spanish chick
You fly
But, I ain't goin' down on no landin' strip
So get your wax on, like Daniel San
Or I'ma have to run
Like De la Hoya in drag when cameras come
Point out the greatest rapper alive
I'll headshot him
Smack his girl on the butt and
Buy her some red bottom
Bring every deceased rapper back
To see his wife
While I'm cyber-sexin' with Jessica
Alba via Skype i’m on my D-boy, Deebo thing
Spiritual steelo swing, like Cee-Lo Green
Get out the camera with your B-Roll bling
You know your flow is wack
We cornered the market
Like a Wal-Mart in a cul-de-sac
Yeah, this what two million singles sold
And an album that's gold look like
Without having to sell your soul nickel

Huh? Huh? yeah (yeah) oh, wait (Shady)
Wait go ahead, go ahead
(Shady, You gotta get 'em, too)
(You the boss, you better get 'em) Wait
Can I rap?
(You the boss so you better represent) Me
Rap? Ayo
Lyrical miracle, spiritual individual
Criminal
Subliminal in your swimming pool (Woah, Oh)
(Metaphysical) Yo, yo, yo, yo alright, yo
(Come on, man, kick that shit I wrote you)
Drop it (Ha ha ha, Kick that shit
I wrote that one time, that John Blaze shit)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

You're 'bout to see peace destroyed
It'll never be restored
When I unleash these beastly hordes
On your CD stores
Wanna stop it? You gon' need a priest
At least three swords
A license to ill from the Beastie Boys
Three Ouija boards, and a
Squeegee, and please, be warned
Don't ask what the squeegee's for
Or the holy water
Acid raps that'll eat these floors
Eat a hole in a rhyme book
You see these horns?
And as for me, you ask when I'm gone
Will he be mourned?
Is puke lukewarm? Should Casey
Anthony do porn?
Can that chick fit a newborn dead baby
Inside a frickin' shoebox with a shoehorn
Smothered in chloroform
So she can go get her groove on?
Can she duct tape and Velcro a fetus?
Joell, yo, tell Joe I need his
Empty box from his old shell-toed Adidas
So I can put these babies in a fetal position
They're gettin' elbows to the penis
Yeah, big deal
I took some little kid's Big Wheel
And spit in his frickin' big kids meal
Quit tryna bite me and pinch, you wench
Sit still! Did you just put your six-inch
Heel through my Benz windshield?!
Is it dust we 'bout to kick up?
Can Yelawolf fit a fifth of rum in a big cup
Between his stick shift in
His frigging pickup
And drink like a hick redneck hillbilly
Will 'til he gets hicc-ups?
Flippin' the script up, like Mike Vick
Gettin' bit in his junk by a Pit, yup
I'm a sick pup i'd be a horrible magician
'cause I'd fuck a trick up
Fix your lips up to say somethin' fly
Or zip up! Ayy, B, let's see:
You said you're gonna do X-Y-Z
'Til you fuck around and get dropped
Like an E when you add an IN-G
Don't put a K in front of that, though
When I MC 'Cause, I'm not the king
Of this microphone booth
It's more like a phone booth
Superman in this bitch, Kryptonite won't do
It gives me more power
I bump the Fat Boys and eat rat poison
Take meteor showers
Fresh outta the mental hospital
And me not flossin' a middle finger while
I hop in a mosh pit
Will be like Nas doin' gospel
Or R&B you crazy? Me pushin' up daisies
That thought is impossible
As if flashin' across the news
Posdnuos was caught with a prostitute
With a huge johnson
Boobs and a monstrous tube
Of lube, and a bra, some boots, some panties
And an aqua blue Mazda
Swallowin' a popsicle, playin' tonsil pool
So kill the rumors
It ain’t happenin' I’ma rap
'til I'm fossil fuel