I wanna be the best who ever did it 
Don’t know if that goal is feasible, or it isn’t 
But if it is please God, if you’re listenin’ 
Please give me the strength to [bad [bad word] 
You can’t blame me for dreaming, I’m a dreamer 
And if [bad word] off brash please for give me 
But, that’s all I want 

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9] 
I just wanna be the illest MC (That’s all I want) 
The same time being as real as can be 
Mayhem, sickness, murder, horror 
These are the kind of words that describe my aura, rap 
Rass Kass [bad word]  Redman I am cut from that cloth 
Write a rhyme about me? You a dead man 
Cool J, I’m Bad video 
Learn the whole routine and perform it for my father’s friends 
While they smoked and drank symphony 
D-O-C, inspired me to write what 
Would eventually put me on airplanes like B.O.
Canibus, Wu-Tang, you know our history but hats off 
When we rap this Jack Frost we outline the track chalk 
Thank God for the one two cadence 
Thank God for the lunch room tables 
I’m trying to be the sickest [bad word] dead or alive 
And if I happen to fall short it’s been one [bad word] of a ride 
Chronic 1 and 2, looking up at the sky at the sun 
Up until the day the sun is you 
You listening to Hip Hop, you in Jay’s house 
Wayne’s house, Nas’ house 
Em’s house, our house 

[Chrous: Skylar Grey] 
So [bad word]  to our house 
Where no [bad word] back out 
You might [bad word] 
In here, in here, in here 

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz] 
When I was a little boy I wanted to be a rapper 
Wanted to be on the radio and snapping pictures after 
And so I grabbed my pen and pad and scribbled chitter chatter 
It started off whack but in the words of a ten year old my [bad word] was getting phatter 
I hit the studio at 16, stupider 
Not knowing how the booth would feel, what’s (?) and two inch (?) 
How you ad-lib, what’s a punch I ain’t a boxer 
But I sure enough learned the ropes, look to the mic you made a monster 
Now everyday’s a game of Contra, I got 99 men 
An infinite amount of rounds inside this mighty fine pen 
This is my dream, don’t [bad word] with it I’m telling you 
Cause anyone can get dusted as long as production is available 
I’m disgusted as a fan, look how niggas sounding [bad word] 
Weak head, ya’ll suck bad 
 [bad word] swag and your kicks from South Japan 
I’m gonna be the best in this profession 
I’ve been invested all my life 
So wipe your feet before you step in 
Our house

[Chrous] 

[Hook (Joe Budden)] 
(I just wanna be the illest MC) That’s all I want 
(The same time being as real as can be) 

[Verse 3: Crooked I] 
Yo in my house, the lights out 
No utilities in the facilities feeling my life’s ’bout 
To wipe out, these feelings I’m feeling be killing me 
I pull the mic out, can’t strike out 
Cause if winning is really my enemy, I pull a nine out 
Blow my mind out, is the end of me really serenity 
Man in my house, it’s rap or die 
Get a piece of that apple pie 
Life is a Pharcyde song, and that [bad word] just passes by 
So I, got [bad word]  that way I could fly jets 
Get my moms out the projects, with these [bad word] can’t digest 
And then I stress cause the road is rough, start feeling like [bad word] sour 
The electricity in my will power, could still power 
The twin towers, for ten hours so send cowards 
The message from Crooked I, Royce Da 5 
Joe Budden, Yaowa 

[Verse 4: Eminem] 
In our, house we spit like six hours 
The way I feel now I could spit for six hours 
Straight, only way to be great, is to dig down 
If you can hear this sound in, side my mind sounds like a [bad word] drive-by 
That’s what the inside of my mind’s like, looking back on 
My career even, hindsights, television, 5 mics 
Never wanted that so bad thinking I would go mad 
Nomad with a notepad, go Taz 
Spaz on these ho bags, you bother me but I never wanna show that 
Just don’t act like it ever does, even though you know that that will [bad word] 
day someone blows past you who never was, someone whose as dope as you 
Ever was, and you hope that’s [bad word] cause 
 [bad word] in you would ever let someone be better than you 
And you know that, so you don’t ever hold back 
What you gonna go back, to working a regular job? [bad word] that 
I’m gonna go hard grab on my, gonads 
Tell them [bad word] theyselves 
They call me a wigger like Renee Zell 
But I raised [bad word] like a stay-at-home dad 
Rap is the only thing that I was ever really, bad to the bone at 
Guess I’m similar to, gangrene in them, ain’t grieving them 
Hulk Smash, so much passion but [bad word] 
If eyes are the windows to the soul then it’s 
Broken glass and there’s no trespassing 
Alright now here we go 
Dre stamped me now I’m stamping Yelawolf be ready for the [bad word] click in the world it’s like Clash Of The Titans 
I’m releasing the cracker it’s time to set it again 
And when it’s said and it’s all done 
None shall [bad word] with this squadron 
 [bad word] on in, at your own risk 
This is (Our House) [bad word] #33;