EMINEM - 911
Artists Boo Ya Tribe ft Eminem
West Koasta Nostra (As music starts) Eminem WHOOOOOOOOO!! HAHAHA Guess who's back! Mommy! We're home! Say hello to my little friends! DJ Muggs, Soul Assassins, Cypress Hill! Everybody, Put your hands where my eyes can see em! (Eminem) Everywhere we go people know we roll deep as f**k 40 50 Samoans aint no one wanna deal with us 50 Twizzy Obie there wont be no hoe in us They pop sh*t like they gonna do sh*t but no one does When we move down to Texas back up to Los Angeles We change the way we move so man up if you cant adjust You may end up getting rushed by too many to handle us Its funny I guess money does have its advantages And it isnt that we just think that we cant be touched Its not like were just feelin ourselves that much its just That if someone ever does put us in the clutch We just know that yall aint gonna be the one whos gonna do it Cuz first of all youre pushy and everybody can see that You f**k around get caught in a spot that you shouldnt be at That you got no business being in and we aint even gonna be in it No ones gonna hear nothin no ones gonna see the sh*t And theyll be in and up out it them boys is bout it bout it And the noise from clips n rounds will be drownded out by the crowd And youll be layin on the ground getting trampled by people dancing Till the club closes and clears out and thats when they see you flattened Nobody saw it happen, all cuz the jaws are flappin And you couldnt stop yappin and took it passed rappin It aint about the music no more, its about tryin to show off And it feels like any minute the bomb is about to go off Chorus: (Eminem) Shits about to change cuz we aint playin no games We aint budgin neither are they and we aint sayin no names Shit just aint the same when the cage get to sprayin Hip Hop is in a state of 9-1-1 It aint about hip hop cuz those days are gone It aint about tryin to rip shop to get props no more Its about tryin not to get popped and get dropped to the floor cuz Hip Hop is in a state of 9-1-1 (Be Real) I took the strap off my holster cuz sh*t is getting serious All these drugs you be f**kin with make you delirious Thinkin you comin with heat yo son Im curious How long are you gonna hate us and judge us and jury us Some people can never fade us they make us so curious Mistake us for fakers homey with raider with glorious We live it for real and others just makin the stories up Illusions so broken so live it up you corny f**ks If you take a f**kin minute to think about what you done When you stood against a gangsta who live and die by the gun Caught a hot one sprayin you bi*hes till there was none Im like a rollin stone homey I got you under my thumb You silly little bi*hes can end up right up in ditches We cut you and give you stitches for envyin all our riches Your games just like a midget you clockin the small digit Dealin with a giant goliath people thats how we live it come on Chorus (The Godfather) Im gangsta gangsta who come to pay you a visit On this sh*t that you call hip hop disfunction is where its headed When I put it in motion my focus is getting breaded My appetite for destruction is blasted because I say we got you Stumblin for cover this music dyin in number But you wouldnt pause and wonder admittin its all glamour when you Enter the business you thinking you runnin sh*t You witness that funny sh*t you bi*hes that aint sh*t We gangsta we blast first ask questions later all these Imitators paradin like they some playas tryin to Save hip hop the task is something greater Cuz we old fashion coded we loyalty motivators Getting caught and not telling or more like killin not carin Im ridin A gangsta feelin no ferin when gangtas dyin Im in a Food circle with homeys thats suppose to bleed On a 8 mile mission with Cypress and OGs