[Intro: Yelawolf]
Aye Boo get these motherfuckers and pass that Jack

[Chorus: Gangsta Boo]
I see you bitches talking loud but you ain't saying shit
Get the fuck from round here, you don't rep my shit
You ain't from my city, you don't know about this
You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it, bitch
Now throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up
Throw it up, yeah, ho, you ain't ready for it, bitch
Throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up, throw it up
You ain't ready for it, bitch

[Verse 1: Yelawolf]
I already got, two cars in the yard that don't run
So why would I wanna break shit down for you
Better me confuse with the punchlines and bars that I launch
Here the king of debauchery come, with a cracker dick
To fuck you in that pussy carpet you munch
If I'm not hardly the one
You must be barely the one billionth
Really you kidding, bitch I'm the prodigal son
And I'm stunting like my Daddy
D-dr-d-drinking like my Mama
C-c-country like my uncles
Stuttering like a CD in a donk
BUMP, BUMP, BUMP, BUMP
And I'm in a blue Chevy
Running over motherfuckers in first
I ain't even shift gears yet
I ain't even here yet, I'm outta this Earth
Right, yeah ho
But I just hit the surface
And I'm bout to walk into a bank
With a shank and a black can of paint to check the clerk
Where the keys
Bitch you better check your purse
I gotta brick of herb
And I hit the syrup
And I'm feeling like I might just hit the curb
So get the fuck outta my way buddy
You don't wanna run around the chicken house with a heart of a puppy dog
Yelawolf and Eminem shit
Sufferin' succotash, yeah suck a dick bitch
[Chorus: Gangsta Boo]
I see you bitches talking loud but you ain't saying shit
Get the fuck from round here, you don't rep my shit
You ain't from my city, you don't know about this
You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it, bitch
Now throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up
Throw it up, yeah, ho, you ain't ready for it, bitch
Throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up, throw it up
You ain't ready for it, bitch

[Verse 2: Gangsta Boo]
Bitch please you don't wanna step up to this Misses
G-A-N-G-S-T-A Boo make a n***a hit his knees when
I'm up in the building, preachin' to my children
I don't be taking no shit from you haters
You'll make me hurt one of your feelings
Ha ha ha ha
Nah nah ni nah nah
Pick your face up off the floor
I got you feeling sad now
You be on that Hokiewag, Hokiewag is bullshit
Run into this Gangsta, have your preacher at the pulpit bitch
I was born on the Mississippi River
Take no shit from a bitch or a n***a
So, so crazy gotta fucked up temper
Bi-pola', not Nicki I'm worser, I'll hurt ya
I got a crazy-ass mind game
Ma n***a, I'm a lion, untamed
Hunt ya ass down in my jungle, I do this
I tell them hoes, you ain't ready for it bitch
[Chorus: Gangsta Boo]
I see you bitches talking loud but you ain't saying shit
Get the fuck from round here, you don't rep my shit
You ain't from my city, you don't know about this
You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it, bitch
Now throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up
Throw it up, yeah, ho, you ain't ready for it, bitch
Throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up, throw it up
You ain't ready for it, bitch

[Verse 3: Eminem]
Me and Yelawolf
Tear the roof off this motherfucker
You ain't got the umph
You're a hoof to the foot of an elephant
Hello toots, you look so eloquent
That's what I tell a cunt
Come sit up front cause you're kicking my seat
And I'm trying to tell the cashier what I want
They say I act like an asshole
When I pull up at the White Castle
And I ask for an appli-cation
Throw it back in her face and
Tell the bitch I'm a rapper, then I wack her
In the head with a Whopper
That I bought from BK, you expect me to be proper
Bitch you better pop in a CD of me immediately slut, ho
Skidda dee da da
Prada, not a chance
I was thinking about buying you some clothes
But Target's closed
So I decided to mosey on over to K-Mart but the doors
Was locked, what about some shoes I thought
Great I suppose
So I go to Payless but what'dya know
They didn't carry a size eight in hoes
Oh, this is ugly boy swag
Putting toe tags on you motherfucking ho bags
What a Trailer Trash pioneer
I am yeah, that's why I'm here
I don't got a rhyme book it's more like a motherfuckin' diary of diarrhea
Me, Yelawolf and Gangsta Boo came here to show you a thing or two
Bout sign language, middle fingers aimed at you
So we don't gotta scream at you
Ow, I just bit my bottom lip, it was an accident
I went to go tell em all to go get fucked
But I'm never gonna bite my tongue
Little bitch, throw it up
[Outro: Yelawolf & Eminem]
What the fuck is this, White dog
Yo
Yo, what' up?
What' up?
Uh, you do that verse?
Yeah, I just killed that shit
What?
Nah, nothin'. Urm, yo, you know what I was thinking, man?
I think the one thing that er... that the album don't have
That might be missing
Is like er... a song for, like, for girls
Uh, what do you mean? For like bitches?
Nah, girls. Like a love song
No?!
We need one!
Like—love song, love song?
Yeah, man, bitches like love songs!