Lyrics Language: Scots Song writer/composer(s): De Shaun Dupree Holton, Mathers Mathers, M Williams, Rufus B Johnson, Marshall Mathers, Von M Carlisle, J Kent
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D1240 Oz. Lyrics:
[Chorus]
Pour your 40 out. (Guzzle It) [8x]
Bitch!!!
[Bizzare]
We fucked up,
Let us in the club.
One of y'all n|ggas gon' catch a slug, (Yeah)
I'm so drunk I could hurl for a month.
Any n|gga poppin ****, go to the trunk.
D12 start ****, n|gga come get us,
7 Mile Runyan, wild n|ggas wit us,
Cause all my n|ggas is talkin' that ****.
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 **** out, stab you with a knife,
It's D12 n|gga, we ready to fuckin' fight.
[Chorus]
[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 **** up, and get
the **** 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 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 ***, 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, n|ggas crying, n|ggas
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 n|ggas bloodied.
And you gon' have to pour out a keg for all your homies.
[Chorus]
[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 ****.
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.
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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