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D12 lyrics - D12 World


Original and similar lyrics
(feat. Obie Trice) [Eminem-intro] Whoa! Yeah! Ahh! (Mutha'Fucka's think they know us) G-g-g-g Guess whos back D-Twizze!, O-Twizzie! Doc-Twizzie!, Shady-Twizzie!, slash Aftermath! Fiftycent!, G Unit!, Here we go!, Free Yayo! Mutha'fucka!, Benzino!, They don't know we finna' blow! Someone betta' tell them so. . . [Swifty McVay] You don't me, McVay and I doubt if you understand me Why would I give a fuck about you if we ain't family I roll with a chosen few, and those of you that's behind me Witness the most potest' furocious *****s that rhyme These bitches turn they back on you, actin' like they ain't did shit When you rappin' never mix bussiness up with your friendship If you lackin' up in this jungle, then what you breathe fo' *****s's don't love you, you got habits of breaking street codes Far as static, I automaticly get medieval When i'm after people, then i'll explode you bitches with C-4 These hoe's, have no insurance, bodies get repo' Making you vanish even when we ain't got our heat close Keepin' .44's where you're hoes are swallowing deep throat If you owe me dough then you know you falling asleep, close *****'s pupils that's what I do, i'm foolish will shoot you Cuz' i'm coo-coo, But I don't think *****s can take in heat tho' [Chorus x2] [Kon Artis] See i'm a man, and a man gon' do what he gotta do And he ain't really family if he ain't loyal to you If they was really soldiers then they would do what we do And be loyal to crew and crew was loyal to you [Bizarre] I don't give a fuck, i'm quick to blaze chronic Smoke on so much green, use twelves and supa-sonic Bizarre pack guns and knives, put to dick to 'Nuns and Wifes Now who the fuck want to fight Ain't nobody fucking with me, Ain't nobody fucking with the D' They get beat like a M-P You heard about Bizarre taking all them drugs You heard about Proof wil'ing in the clubs You heard about that nine that Eminem packs You diss us, you get you're fucking face cracked I'm from 7 Mile and stout, I'll shoot up you're house Next day, i'll pee in you're mouth. . [Obie Trice] Aiyyo, loyalty's first, all the bullshit second I showed you on the record, Cheers to who respect it Most of these *****s neglect it Even though it's a known method >From the hectic hood that you slept in You wanna' be an exeption That's when the weapon is leaving you're half stepping With that 'caine in you're left hand Obie from a section that'll stain up you're flesh and Have you on bare breast Questionin' you're affection for streets D-Twizzie no question One of the best groups that done it And Obie is their reflection Lil' homey that know sowly that loyalty is reckin' D-Twizzie fo' life, Obie Trice is second. . [Chorus x2] [Proof] Which one of you *****s wanna' be boltion bump heads When I got a passion for clappin'. . .with one hand Talent's on my roster this mobster's in dump land Send a gangsta to sleep two by two like bunk beds Never leave the crib without packing my black burner On some T. Ali rapper to merk a have murda Incorporated, Hitman Herry is at you're service Reach for me one more gain' and thats closed For life as D12, no ice and spreewells Every night that I chill in, I fight by free-will Knowing I can be killed Leaving my group, pieces of proof with a reason to shoot And a liecense to ill We lost Bugz and i'll be damed if we loose another man from our clan Without forcing our hand Estorting you're family, i'll torture you're granny For my *****'s, i'm on you're motherfucking porch with a 'Cammy [Chorus x2] [Kuniva + Kon Artis] Yo its funny how *****s get caught along (and get bombed on) Knocking teeth in back of you're throat (and break you're jaw bone) (I'm on ignorant shit) these *****s is bitch Pass me a cigarrete quick (shit is finna' get thick) Yo' man i'll get split (by a brutal and critical hit) With identical dent (or bullets with identical prints) I'm wishing you if (you come you're Lutenints a snitch) You teminant fick (and we know you ain't finna' do shit) I'll stick with my clique (The Kon Artis Bomb Artist) Kuniva The Rida' (Shooting through you're fucking Long John garmets) Dirty Dozen (We deep in the street) Unbelivable heat, we'll even lay you out infront of the chief of police Muthafucka' [Chorus x2] [Kon Artis-outro] Yeah! D-Twizzie D12, Dirty Dozen Nothing but family up in this muthafucka' Loyal to everything that we do You ain't neva' gonna' catch none of us slippin by ourself 'Cuz we always together You know what i'm sayin . . Y'all *****s don't know what family means Bugz watching over our ass Thats why we still alive know Knocking yall *****s outta the clubs and shit Haha! Runyan Av. Baby! Shady Records! Where yo' mamma at *****

Rap Game

[Bizarre] 'The Rap Game' Hip-hop 1-0-1 The hardest 9 to 5 you will ever have You can't learn this shit in no history-book You ready to rap mothafucker? You ready to sell your soulÂ… heh-heh-heh 'The Rap Game' ...motherfucker [Swifty] I'm a disruptive nigger You made me crazy You should a slayed me as a baby Behavin shadier than Wes Craven And you aint even gotta pay me I take pleasure of layin a nigga down daily You face me drunk or sober You'll faint fast I'm never fucked up to where I can't whoop your ass Your neck will get snapped wit bear hands fuck music Is he rappin is cool but fool don't confuse it What happens these dudes get rude and then I lose it I'm scantlas I blow your two kids off the atlas With a gat that's bigger Then Godzilla's back nigga You are not real and in fact Your fruity effect of a crack dealer Ya'll president sends me smack Den got a mack 10 wit it So I aint gotta rap But im thankful for that dont mistaken me black Or u be stankin in back of a fuckin caddillac [Eminem] I'ma get snuffed Cause I aint said enough to pipe down I pipe down when the white house is whipped out when I see that lil cheany dike get snipped out lights out bitch adios goodnight now put that in your lil pipe and bite down think for a minute cause the hype has died down that I wont go up in the oval office right now and flip whatever ain't tied down upside down I'm all for America, fuck the government tell that C. Doloris Tucker slut to suck a dick mutha fucker duck what the fuck son of a bitch take away my gun and I'm a tuck some other shit cant tell me shit about the tricks of this trade switch blade with a lil switch to switch blades switch from a 6 to a 16 inch blade shits like a samurai sword a sensei shit just don't change to this day i'm this way still till I utslay itchbay ucksay my ickday scuse my igpay atinlay but uckfay a igpay [50 Cent] this rap game this rap game I ain't sellin my soul for this rap game I ain't digging a whole for this rap game but im telling ya no it aint happ-ning this rap game this rap game I aint sellin my soul for this rap game I aint digging a whole for this rap game this rap game this rap game [Kon Artis] i bet you rather me drink n drown in my own Iniquity but fuck that i'ma rap till u all get sick of me and clutch my nut sack and spit on who pick on me im hittin a rock next fuck a dogg who sickin me im sayin you mutha fuckers dont know and quit playin if im broke then im brakin open the place where you layin you know, same shit every nigga done in his life i lived it thats why i speak on what i want when i write so why... should i... ever fear another man if he bleed like i bleed take a piss an he stand ok, you win... you can say we can't rap but no source never mean we aint buyin on what they say is wack [Kuniva] i walk in the party and just start bustin right after i hear the last verse of self-destruction this liquor make me wanna blast the chrome to let you know that time without more is getting jerome im low down and shifty, quickly called swifty to do a drive by on a 10-speed with '50' you feelin lucky? squeeze i catch you outside of chucky cheese well just see, who be an unlucky G my life style is unstable, a partyin attic they said no fighting in the club so i brought me a matic coughin up static, I jump niggas call me a rabbit popin a tablet, and guns that saw you in half [50 cent] beleive me we run this rap shit fo shizzie make makin millions look easy every where ya turn you see me you hear me believe me for ya see my pistol in 3-D no time to call a peace treaty dial 9-1-1 cause u need de police to help you believe me [Proof] i snatch the tounge from the sidewalk and piss on the curb this is absurb these street niggas twistin my words we finally could say goodbye to hollywood cause proof an shaun share nuttin in common the nastyest band with gats in each hand we never bomb down to be a flash and a pan no remorse fuck you stature dog nuttin to do wit hands when i clap at yall put ya jaw on the ground wit the 4 and a pound im goin out of town for the long come around so we can battle wit raps so we can battle wit gats matter fact we can battle wit plaques [50 Cent] this rap game [Bizarre] im too fuckin retarded i dont give a fuck about my dick thats why im dating Loraina Bobbet my crew had an argument who was the largest now they all is dead and im rolling as a solo artist plus i made all the beats and wrote all the raps well i really didnt but i did according to this contract i was stoned in the snow wit no where to go freezin 20 below forced to join bail tip dafoe my little girl she shouldnt be listening to these lyrics thats why i glued the headphones to her ear to make sure she hear it if rap dont work, im starting a group wit garth brooks (hahhaha) 50 sing the hook [50 Cent] this rap game this rap game I aint sellin my soul for this rap game I aint digging a whole for this rap game And im telling ya no it aint happ-ning this rap game this rap game I aint sellin my soul for this rap game I aint digging a whole for this rap game this rap game this rap game

Method Man (Home Grown Version)

WU-TANG CLAN "Iron Flag"
1,2 Uhh 1,1 1,2 Uhh 1,1 M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN [Verse One:] Hey, you, get off my cloud You don't know me and you don't know my style Who be gettin flam when they come to a jam Here I am here I am, the Method Man Patty cake patty cake hey the method man Don't eat Skippy, Jif or Peter Pan Peanut butter, cuz I'm not butter In fact I snap back like a rubber band, I be Sam, Sam I am And I dont eat green eggs and ham Style will hit ya, wham!, then goddamn You be like oh shit that's the jam Turn it up now hear me get buckwu-wu-wild I'm about to blow light me up Upside downside inside and outside Hittin you from every angle there's no doubt I am, the one and only Method Man The master of the plan wrappin shit like Saran Wrap, with some of this and some of that Hold up (what) I tawt I tat I putty tat Over there, but I think he best to beware Of the diggy dog shit right here Yippy yippy yay yippy yah yippy yo Like Deck said this aint your average flow Comin like rah ooh ah achie kah Tell me how ya like it so far baby paw The poetry's in motion coast to coast and Rub it on your skin like lotion What's the commotion, oh my lord Another corn chopped by the Wu-Tang sword Hey hey hey like Fat Albert It's the Method Man ain't no if ands about it It's the Method Man Uhh, like that baby paw Uhh I got, fat bags of skunk I got, White Owl blunts And I'm about to go get lifted Yes I'm about to go get lifted I got, myself a forty I got, myself a shorty And I'm about to go and stick it Yes I'm about to go and stick it [Verse Two:] Uhh H-U-F-F huff and I puff Blow like snow when the cold wind blow then Zoom, I hit the mic like boom Wrote a song about it like to hear it here it go Question what exactly is a panty raider Ill behaviour savior or major flavor All of the above oh yeah plus I do so Also flam I'm the man call me super Not an average Joe with an average flow Doing average things with average hoes Yo I'm super I'll make a bitch squirm For my, Su-per Sperm Check it I give it to ya raw butt naked I smell sess pass the Method Let's get lifted as I kick ballistics Missles and shoot game like a pistol Clip is loaded when I click bang dang A Wu-Tang slug hits your brain J-U-M-P jump and I thump Make girls rumps like pump and Humpty Hump Wow, the Shaolin style is all in me Child, the whole damn isle is callin me P-A-N-T-Y-R-A-I-D-E-R mad raw I don't fry Meaning no one can burn or toss and turn me Cuz, Ooh I be the super sperm Chim chimmeny chim chim cherie Freak a flow and flow fancy free Now how many licks does it take For me to hit the Tootsie Roll center of a break Peep and don't sleep the crews mad deep Wu-Tang Fadin motherfuckers like bleach So to each and every crew You're clear like glass I can see right through You're whole damn posse be catchin em all cause you vic'd and ya didnt have friends to begin with I'm M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN Yes I am [Verse Three:] Uhh, Uhh Rappers crossing over to that R&B jinx Walk around town like your shit don't stink Take it from me, hey G, you don't amaze me Shot me at point blank range but only grazed me Nothing mental, just plain and simple Lyrics you bust couldn't bust a fucking pimple Come here kid, what, let me tell you something Your like change of a penny, nothing Wham, Oh shit, God Damn Skippy, hit me, man I get flam Better yet hectic, wreck shit, I'm rowdy Like a license check this be Audi Tippy tippy tum tippy tah tippy tum Direct from the Shaolin Slum, here I come Straight from the top, the cock, yo I'm fed up I put it in your ear and fuck your whole head up Wu-Tang's gang bang, up your butt crack and Straight from Staten, silky like satin Used to break clicks with stones and sticks Nowadays we do it with the Macs and clips The Method, Man The Method, Man The Method, Man Yes I am, Yes I am M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN Uhh, 92 for the Wu Now how brothers want it With salt or butter, motherfucker A doo-doo chop, a doo-doo chop, a doo-doo chop chop

For You

PAC DIV "Pac Div: Church League Champions"
[Verse 1: Like] I know we wasn't what you looking for But when you see us it's like how much is y'all booking for Guess we ain't turn out as corny as you took us for You probably want us begging pennies out the liquor store It's been a long time, feel like a slow grind But sure enough the label stumbled on this gold mine Was either that or sit up in the unemployed line Now we on and everybody want a joy ride Damn homie, you told me don't rhyme You see a nigga in the magazine you cosign You say we too soft We tell you screw off We'll pick that Grammy up in no time [Hook:] I feel like I need to be congratulated For all the bullshit that I've been through I feels good knowing that you hate it That's why I wrote this song for you For you, For you, For you, For you That's why I wrote this song for you For you, For you, For you, For you That's why I wrote this song [Verse 2: Mibbs] Guess what I did? (what's that?) I told my boss I quit When my check comes you better have my shit (Ooo!) I stood atop my desk blew the officer kisses Told Bret from accounting you can suck my dick Congratulations, that's right people, yes I did Waited my whole life for a day like this So next time you see me I'll be on my shit I got a whole lot of folks to scribble off my list Like hoes that did me wrong Niggas that dissed my songs And other miscellaneous shit I don't condone In the Hollywood zone where everybody's a clone Pac Div stands alone, It's on! [Hook] [Verse 3: BeYoung] Congratulations I heard you got a new man and county job Still at your parents house plus you drive his Audi car Went from K-Mart to Vicky Secret catalogs V.I.P. everywhere you go the cameras are. Yup I heard you treat the market like the red carpet Next to the eggs and the high heels with your hair parted Polluted minds just die getting fed garbage You take pride and drive niggas off the edge darling And yet still we ain't mad at ya It's clear to see that your ass backwards Auctioned off when these niggas throw their cash at you Yor brain gone, but your ass fatter [Hook x2]

Snoopy Track

JAY-Z "Vol. 3... Life And Times Of S. Carter"
(feat. Juvenile) [Jay-Z] Bounce Uhhh, ha, uhhh, ha Uhhh, uh-huh-uh-uhhh, uhh, uh-huh This for my hustlers.. uh-huh And for the bitches.. yeah Yo, yo This is for my niggaz down in Houston on candy paint All my niggaz in the Dirty South, Miami mayne All my niggaz in the A-T-L throwin dem bones All them thugs that send slugs through your clothes; holla at me It's for the black culture, Spanish chicks with the sweet chocha Spanish cats with the ki's of cocoa All the haters eat a dick they wanna see you brok-er I hope the heat stroke ya, the misery is over All my deep smokers, I hope the leaf choke ya Hope you'll never be sober I'ma toast to myself I hope the Crist' get me, spiralin into a tizzy So pissy, swervin on the road dizzy May God protect my soul, angels walk with me First do the flow sickly, niggaz is so shifty The fo'-fo' is like a force field, you won't get me I brought some folk with me, Brooklyn is loc'n with me What the fuck [Chorus: Juvenile repeat 2X] You know, we ride All day, all night Pop Crist, shoot dice Fuck hoes, for life [Jay-Z] This is for my chicks that get dough for takin off they clothes All them money makin honeys that slide down the poles All my educated chicks who grade is 4.0 All the baby mamas across the globe; aiyyo I like my women friends feminine I like my hoes on 'X' like Eminem.. shit! I like em bow-legged, never coke-headed With a dough fetish - the drive to go get it I like they toes proper, I like they clothes Prada I like they shoes Gucci, I like new coochie I fucked a few groupies, in a few hoopties I got em iceberg shit they thought I knew Snoopy I cop them Roc-a-Wear, my mamis dedicated They never tell me no, the most they said is 'not here' I got they ears studded, both wrists baguetted I got a main chick, a mistress, and a young bitch Forget it I'm the don [Chorus] [Jay-Z] Wha-What This is for my dice shooters, cats doin life By the time I get this kite to ya, I hope you doin alright Who got em platinum up Who got the chicks in the truck Too much to sit comfortably, they lappin up Who shit is big pimpin See the flow different I drop heavy then I let the four-fifth flip em I keep rappers talkin to kids, Jigga 'Sixth Sense-d' em Don't mention my name and lames in the same sentence You see I'm so thorough, take on your whole borough Be so careful I hear the whistle from the fo'-fo' barrel Keep the flow Hovah; icy neck, cold shoulder Who click is closest to La Costra Nostra It's 'The Roc' [Chorus 1.5X]

Can I Bitch

EMINEM "Straight From The Lab EP"
[in a high falsetto voice] Uncle Marshall! Will you tell us a bedtime story [regular voice] Here we go... Now once upon a time not long ago There was a little rapper about to blow But his album came and it was not good I think it went lead or double copper wood So the silly little fans they were mislead By a nerdy internet computer hip-hop head 'Me and you, 'Clef, we're gonna make some cash Grab the silver paint and let's paint my ass' Hey mister, would ya care to bare witness to The ass-whippin' I'm about to administer To this ass-kissin' little vaginal blister Stanabis, little Marshall Mathers' sister And in this corner, we have the mister Not havin' it, it's the mad sinister Dr. Evil with his bag of tricks for this little antagonist faggot dick-suckin' Ex-LL Cool J fan from Windsor I'm 'bout to murder little Kenny fag Keniff-sta You bastard I ain't wanna have to diss ya Canabis, where the fuck you at I miss ya! [Chorus] Can-i-bitch, oh Can-i-bitch Where for art thou Can-i-bitch Please tell me what happened with That style that you were rappin' with Can-i-bitch, oh Can-i-bitch Are you from Los Angeles New York or just a janitor From Canada Oh Can-i-bitch Now at first I ain't really understand the shit Picture me for a second and imagine it Chillin' in the Bat-Mansion and relaxin' When all a sudden some bullshit comes across the scanners It's Can-i-bitch on some 'Stan Lives' shit It creeped me out at first. Man this is sick For me, being just a sick, this conflict Gets my dick harder than arithmetic And I know how you jealous ones envy I shoulda knew better from the first few letters you sent me The first two letters you were tellin' me shit Like you respect me, like any other regular MC The third letter you ask how come I ain't return None of the messages at Shady Records you left me The fourth letter: 'Slim, you really startin' to upset me!' The fifth letter told me you were comin' to get me The sixth letter there's a bomb threat in our building This crazy motherfucker's really tryin' to kill me! So I went back and read the first few letters that said Some shit about a message you left Oh shit, that's not an 'E' that's an 'A' This dude wants to leave me a 'massage,' he's gay!! Right away I'm on the phone with Dr. Dre We got a bogey! (Marshall I'm on the way) [Chorus] Can-i-bitch, oh Can-i-bitch Where for art thou Can-i-bitch Please tell me what happened with That style that you were rappin' with Can-i-bitch, oh Can-i-bitch Are you from Los Angeles New York or just a janitor From Canada Oh Can-i-bitch So in two seconds flat Dre's at my crib The funny thing is we both know where this kid lives And neither one of us have Canadian citizenship Shit. Oh Dre, wait a mintue that's it All we gotta do is use a bit of turbo boost We can fly over the border 'Let's go' [WOOSH!] So we're off to Toronto and we're gainin' speed [BOOSH!] (What was that Oh) Jermaine Dupri Fuck It, keep goin' no time to waste Wait, backup hit him one more time in case Okay .. fuck now he's draggin' under the car Oh well, only 30 more thousand miles Meanwhile me and Dre are tryin' to conversate Just tryin' to find a reason for the constant hate And tryin' to figure out what happened to 'Germaine Propaine' 'He couldn't have fell off that hard' Ain't no way 'What happened to the way you was rappin' when you was scandalous That Canibus turned into a television evangelist' Plus he raps with his regular voice [BOOSH! BOOSH!] [BOOSH! BOOSH!] (What was that) Pet Shop Boys So we pull up to the bridge where he last was spotted His corpse was still movin' but his ass was rotted He kinda smelled a little like Courtney Love I figure if I stick him with a fork he's done So I stabbed him twice, kept jabbin', Christ He won't die, this guy's like a battered wife He's like Kim, he keeps comin' back for more But he won't fight back I cracked his jaw Hold up, 'Bis quit foldin' up! Punch me in the chest! Make my shoulders touch! Do somethin'! At least one punchline C'mon till the meter reads 9-9-9- ty-nine percent of my fans are blonde 'Bis c'mon answer me man respond! Tell me 'bout the sun rain moon and stars Intergalatical metaphors from Mars! Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs Bite another line from Redman's song! Suddenly the stub from a dead man's arm From a midget reaches out from under the car It's JD, this motherfucker won't die neither Dre starts sprayin' him with cans of ether We stomped the bitch and then stopmed the bitch again (Compton!) Detroit bitch! Talk some shit again! Stomp him! (switch feet) Stomp him! (switch again!) Dre alright he's dead dog, quit kickin him! I think Stanabis jumped off the bridge again (Damn) He disappeared yo he's gone he did it again [Chorus] Can-i-bitch, oh Can-i-bitch Where for art thou Can-i-bitch Please tell me what happened with That style that you were rappin' with Can-i-bitch, oh Can-i-bitch Are you from Los Angeles New York or just a janitor From Canada Oh Can-i-bitch

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