[Intro: Eminem]
YEAH! (YEAH! OOOHHH!)
I don’t know what else to say, man.
I can’t… (whoooo, whoooo!)
I can’t think of nothin’…
I’m stumped!
Here we go! (Here we go!)
On your feet… (on your feet!)
Stand up! (stand up!)
Everybody hands up! (hands up!)
Uhhh…
Man, I don’t know, man.
Everytime I go to think of something played out to say…
You already said it. (you already said it)
Haha!
Royce!

[Royce da 5’9″:]
I ain’t calling names cause – all of y’all the same, plus
I’m the king, all my past pain all done changed up.
All these plains, all these lames, since the Slaughter’s came up
Cause they know they hands tied, FEET (whooo!) – BALL AND CHAINED UP!
Niggas-be-quick-to-call-me-the-new-50Cent-because-of-my-relationship-with-Marshall
Used to make me a little partial.
But here’s the brain fuck. – We the same cause (same cause!)
I’m pro’ly ’bout to fall out with a “young buck” while I ATTEMPT TO FUCK THE FUCKIN’ “GAME” UP!
PITCH-BLACK! – ONLY THING I FEAR IN HERE IS CHIT-CHAT
YOU ARE HEARIN’ BARS LIKE YOUR EAR AGAINST A – KIT-KAT!
SHADY GUYS LIKE THE NAVY, DRIVE, WAVY BYE-BYE
MAYBE MY GLOCK – CAN TURN YOUR TOP TO BABY’S MAYBACH!
My shit is powerful. – Literally sick. – Trust me,
Nigga, it’s-ugly-to-kill-a thing-if-the-bigger-I-get-the-more-disgusting
And fuckin’ disfigured it gets. – Niggas expect me to go pop. – Oh, stop! (ph, stop!)
Y’all about the champagne, I’m about the toast, I (toast I!)
Only fuck with mailmen with heroin from Boca
Niggas that’ll smoke you while you staring in your postbox. (postbox)
Only incense he enlightens when he’s thinkin’
While that sinks in, I got a Brinks ink pen.
I’m BACK, MOTHAFUCKER! – Notice-the-flyness-on-the-cover-of-the-XXL
I’m-back-from-the-dead-like-Tobey-Maguire-from-the-“Brothers”. (“Brothers”!)
How y’all realer? (how y’all realer?) – If I said it, I did it.
If I didn’t, I seen it first-hand – like a car dealer. (car dealer!)
Give up the throne, your lease up. – I am the Mona Lisa!
That decoded “DaVinci Code”, you throwin’ your piece up.
Is a waste of fake – like a phony B-cup
Nigga, the mistake was like my only teacher. – Wait ’til they get a load of me ’cause!

[Chorus: Royce Da 5’9″]
I’ve got Gucci’s on my feet.
Diamonds on my neck! – Diamonds on my wrist!
Bitches on my dick, but y’all already said that!
Choppers in the trunk.
Models in the front! – Bottles in the club!
But I don’t give a fuck, but y’all already said that! [explosion]

[Bridge: Eminem]
Cause sometimes I feel like it’s so hard
For me to come up with shitty to say. – Aaaaaayyy! (whoooo!)
I’m at a loss for words cause y’all already said it all
I think I’m runnin’ out of clichés, I’m gettin’ writer’s block. – Psyche!

[Royce Da 5’9″:]
When I stand up in this booth – niggas notice it
Sittin’ on the same boat that Noah built.
Floatin’ on the same water Moses split,
Poetry in motion, but we sittin’ on your grave site. – Overkill!
Aren’t you tired? – Why are you so loud? QUIET!
Real dudes move in silence – like a mute drivin’,
A new hybrid! – You dudes is too excited!
You a dude that’d try to sue a dude. – That’s suicidal!
You-will-just-be-another-victim. – I-am-like-a-nickel-of-weed-rolled-in-a-doobie.
I’m-a-little twisted,
I-roll-like-the-end-credits-in-movies.
Y’all just got scripted!
Got y’all niggas’ bitches bobbin’ to this one when she witcha
When she with’ me, she bobbin’, not vibin’, tryna put her mind into the inside of my zipper! (zipper!)
I’m a seperate with a purpose, havin’ problems not a problem,
I’ve encountered, I have found elephants, lions, clowns will
Jump through hoops – like they workin’ for the circus
At the fire round the circle’s right in front of them. – Fire rounds!
Pun intended, gun extended, what are you mark’s askin’?
Car’s Aston started as a hard-top and I saw past it.
Since I decided to start Class diss. – All black, – all glass
Panoramic roof been gettin’ marked absent.
I AUTHORIZE MY OWN ALL-ACCESS.
YOUR BITCH A WHORE! – I’m A CATCH, SHE BALL-CATCHIN’, HER JAW’S BEEN BROADCASTED
ALL ACROSS THE GLOBE FROM THE STORE TO JAPAN,
HER PUSSY NEED TO BLOCKED! – AND REPORTED AS SPAM!
Bong! – Interscope-up-in-this dope and I sell it
My voicemail is full, got bitches screamin’ inside of envelopes,
And they tryna mail ’em to me, tryna reach my phone
I don’t know which one is harder: tryna not to take your bitch – or tryna get rid of my own? – Ha!

[Chorus]

[Bridge]

[Outro: Eminem]
Man, get the bozac. (haha!)
We need to start bringin’ that shit back! (mad flavaaaa!)
Man, fuck it!
I’m ’bout to catch some wreck… (we in effect, Ronnie, hahahah!)
Mad props to Royce for keepin’ it real…
On the strength!
No digity.
I’m ’bout to go pull some hoes… (haha!)
Get my Mack on!
Hah!
Haters get the gasface!
Hahaha! [beat fades out]