[Intro]
[Verse 1: Yelawolf]
Roll down the window in the chevy and I listen to the critics but they really Wasn't saying shit
Buddy, I'm a gutter motherfucker from an Alabama creek, you don't know
Who you're playin' with, They talk so much that I bet one of these pebbles under me get
Laryngitis the wave is so contagious, so who gave it? Apparently I did
Put fish in the back of my boat, I'm a fisherman, I'm a reel 'em in, mackerel
I'm a give 'em ten minutes,Then put 'em back in the water there, just to see 'em all float
And kinda like mixtapes in the back on my trunk, buddy, yeah, I got 'em all sold
In Alabama with an arm and hammer, swimmin' in propaganda, I got 'em all, whoa
Promenade, country boy, get out of my way, gallon of sweet tea, a packet of lemonade
Smackin' a faggot, I crack a bat on the pen and page, no homo, anyway Any stage, rip it any
Way the independent way, look, have you seen his Js?
Footwork, send em' in a rage, feelin' like a millionaire on minimum wage don't need a Mercedes
To take your girl, my Chevy is sick, Earl
I let her play with my mullet, while she sip syrup
Hold up, Alabama funk make you lose your teeth like a Mountain Dew soda
Some saltines wanna live in the box, but guess what? I'm the cracker who showed up

[Hook: Eminem] x2

Cause sometimes I feel like its so hard
For me to come up with shit to say. Aay!
I'm at a loss for words cause ya'll already said it all
I think I'm runnin' out of cliches
I'm gettin' writer's block. Psyche!

[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]
Left the crib with 10 grand bought a hundred pair
I'm the coach I can show you how to be a player
5 faces said the fitted bitches love my hair
Camo shorts go with anything I wanna wear
They let me in the club fuck the dress code
Me and all my n***as rollin' up the best smoke
OG kush from the west coast
Oh you down to fuck? well shorty lets go
Diamonds in my chain n***as tryna steal my lane
Chronic in my brain bitch I'm reppin' Taylor gang
Smoke till I'm insane drinkin' till I'm throwin' up
Only papers if you Taylor'd n***a throw it up
High socks low cuts smell that good weed then you know its us
That yellow car pullin up them n***as ain't hot so they ain't close to us
Down to fly get two fingers and throw em' up

[Chrous: Eminem] x2

Cause sometimes I feel like its so hard
For me to come up with shit to say. Aay!
I'm at a loss for words cause ya'll already said it all
I think I'm runnin' out of cliches
I'm gettin' writer's block. Psyche!
I'm gettin' writer's block. Psyche!
I'm gettin' writer's block. Psyche!
I'm gettin' writer's block. Psyche!