[Intro: Eminem]
 [bad word] to Detroit
This is the BET, Shady 2.0 Cypher 2011
Myself, Slaughterhouse and Yelawolf
White Dawg, get 'em!
(Thank you, cracker)

[Verse 1: Yelawolf]
Put these [bad word] in a box and I send 'em away
Put 'em in a gray 'llac and pop the [bad word] 
And throw 'em in the back, jack; ha, dig 'em a grave
Put a brick inside that Xerox when I print up a page
Moving keys I can relate, cause I live in the cage
I throw up the A, I take 'em to school, I give 'em a grade
An easy for effort, that's WWA
White with an attitude, alphabet soup is on my plate
All I got is Z's, they sleeping 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 making 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, " [bad word] 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 putting Nikes on a cheetah
Better speed up
Or at least in my case Adidas
I'm out this [bad word]  drinking Sprite by the two-liter
Holler!
Shady Records…
[Verse 2: Joe Budden]
Say I'm from the new school
I'ma say, "check your tone and watch your mouth"
If they teaching how to Dougie, I'm condoning dropping 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 copping it
The radio's the crime scene, the masses are the hostages
In my youth I'd throw shots, the fad was dodging it
I'm grown, I ain't watching the throne, I'm sabotaging 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 [bad word] cats bout [bad word] 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 [bad word] from money
Think my bread is her paper to burn
So I lock her out, and now she doubt David is Stern
She's so bad, I make her hit the telly from a taxi
Then dead her in the Holiday Inn, learned that from Max 
That's why the haters envy, kinda wanna send me llamas
I made it right before their eyes, like I was Benihanas
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 Rappaport and Kenny Lattimore
I know hip-hop's alive and well
If it died, you other crews wouldn't survive the smell

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
I spot a victim
The plot'll thicken when the clock is ticking
I caught him slipping
I gotta give him a shot I hit him
With proper spitting, hottest writtens [bad word]  [bad word] #39;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
Digging 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 going postal even
Open season, heart close to freezing [bad word] as Eazy, [bad word]  approach, I'm squeezing
Believe me, dopest Westcoaster breathing
So most y'all hope I'm vegan; nope, I'm beefing
Rappers need to keep it trill, give me a beat to kill
Too many people still eating sleeping pills
People sleeping 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

[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
I ain't a rap dude, I'm a dude who rap
Before this I was moving crack
Killers y'all [bad word] 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 [bad word] shoot
It means your booty claps
Don't play like Tyler Perry
This the Slaughterhouse of pain, flow brown, tight and heavy
When [bad word] to 16's, I'm a fiend
Seen in the studio near a needle with a mean lean
Probably writing bars to Nas' Thief's Theme
Getting my Yaowa on
Man, all these Olajuwons, we the dream team
This is an all day slaughter
They fiending for us to break, like Beyonce's water
The four quarters doing all the eating
And y'all gotta know why I made the cut, I'm Puerto Rican
Ortiz keep the fire ready; and trying to put me out
Is like trying to steal a transvestite from Eddie

[Verse 5: Royce Da 5'9"]
I'm do or die dope
And you can make the sticker sitting on the door of that Phantom your suicide note
Hi, Rihanna...is Nicki living with you?
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 nothing bout Budden, I beat my girl too
You ask 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 Jayden Smith
I tell you like I tell my Spanish chick
You fly, but I ain't going down on no landing strip
So get your wax on, like Daniel San, or I'ma have [bad word] like De la Hoya in drag when [bad word] 
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-ing 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 Roll bling
You know your flow is wack
We cornered the market, like a Wal-Mart in a cul-de-sac
Yeah, this is what two million singles sold
And an album that's gold
Look like without having to sell your soul
Nickel

[Verse 6: Eminem]
Ayo, lyrical miracle, spiritual individual, criminal
Subliminal in your swimming pool…
Boooooo
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
license to ill from the Beastie Boys
Three Ouija boards, 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 [bad word] 
Can that chick fit a newborn dead baby inside a fricking 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 getting elbows to the [bad word] 
Yeah, big deal
I took some little kid's Big Wheel and spit in his frickin' big kids meal
Quit tryin' to 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 [bad word] 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
Flipping the script up
Like Mike Vick getting bit in his junk by a Pit, yup, I'm a sick pup
I'd be a horrible magician, cause I'd [bad word] a trick up
Fix your lips up to say something fly, or zip up
Aye, B, let's see: you said you were gonna do X-Y-Z
'Til you [bad word] around and get dropped
Like an when you add an I-N-
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 [bad word]  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 flossing a middle finger while I hop in a mosh pit'll be like Nas doing gospel or R&
You crazy?
Me pushing up daisies, that thought is impossible
As if flashing across the news
Posdnuos was caught with a prostitute
With a huge johnson, [bad word] and a monstrous tube of lube
And a bra, some boots
Some panties and an aqua blue Mazda
Swallowing a popsicle, playing tonsil pull
So kill [bad word]  it