D12 (X-Treme™ Saider) 40 oz. Lyrics:
[Intro (background "WHAT! WHAT! WHAT!")]
Yeah nigga! It's D12 up in this motherfucker!
You know how we get nigga we wild in the club
Motherfuckers, everybody get crunk in Detroit too
nigga! So wile the fuck out!

[Chorus] Pour your 40 out. (Guzzle It) [8x]
Bitch!!!

[Bizzare] We fucked up, Let us in the club.
One of y'all niggas gon' catch a slug, (Yeah) I'm
so drunk I could hurl for a month. Any nigga pop
shit, go to the trunk. D12 start shit, nigga come
get us, 7 Mile Runyan, wild niggas wit us, Cause
all my niggas is talkin' that shit. Ain't got no
problem, with smackin no bitch. I'll have my
wife, cut your throat. Blunts, gans, that's all
we smoke Wild the fuck out, stab you with a
knife, It's D12 nigga, we ready to fuckin' fight.

[Chorus]

Biiitch [Eminem] Who tryin' to be the first one
to catch this plate in the throat! You know the
po-po don't let me hold them toasters no mo' I
just cut three people, you gon' be number four If
you don't back the fuck up, and get the fuck up
off the flo'. My crew is takin over as soon as we
hit the do' You hit the door then we comin' in
and you goin' home. Security that can't even stop
us because they know, Runyan Avenue soldiers hold
it down wherever we go. Suckin on our 40's and
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holdin up .44's. We come with toasters like we
just opened saving's and loans. And we don't need
your brew tonight homie we brought our own. So
grab whatever you sippin on and let's get it
on!!!!

[Chorus]

[Kuniva] We deep as a motherfuck, we 'bout to
get it crunk You just another punk in the club
about to get jumped I settle my vendettas with
AK's, Berettas We dont supposed to be in here
with our weapons but still they let us.
Switchblade, brass knuckles, nickel plated belt
buckle. Broken beer bottles, when we walk in you
can smell trouble. Elbows flying, niggas crying,
niggas bleeding, you retreating. Run into your
car and skatin off, We G'ing We make example out
of you haters runnin' your mouth. You the reason
why your peoples is pourin they 40z out. Dirty
Dozen whiling, beat niggas bloodied. And you gon'
have to pour out a keg for all your homies.

[Chorus]

Biiitch [Proof] I was raised by drunks, so I
became a drunk. 80 Proof for this rocker, that's
the name I want. I'm in the club to beef, you
gotta murder me then Only talk to a bitch with
burgundy hair. Or the aisle in the back, bump a
seven deuce. See that top on that 40, you know
it's comin' loose. See me on the Av. daily, we
runnin' this shit. If your chick get loud, I
g-money that bitch. Packin mags and clips, I'll
smash your clique. Because of Proof they put the
"G" in the alphabet. Smoking weed,
drinking henny, remy, in that jimmy Don't worry
if we run out the corner store got plenty.

[Chorus]
Lyrics: 40 oz., D12 (X-Treme™ Saider) [end]