Оригинален текст
Bizarre
The rap game, hip hop 101
The hardest nine to five you'll ever have
You can't learn this s**t in no history book
You ready to rap motherfker?
You ready to sell your soul? hahaha
The rap game, motherfker!
Swifty McVay
I'ma disrupted nigg*, you made me crazy
You shoulda slayed me as a baby
Behavin' shadier than Wes Craven
And you ain't even gotta pay me
I take pleasure of layin' a nigg* down daily
You face me, drunk or sober, you'll faint fast
I've never fked up to where I can't whoop ya as*
You'll neck'll get snapped with bare hands, fk music
Is he rappin'? It's cool but fools, just don't confuse it
What happens: these dudes get rude then I lose it
I'm scandalous, I blow ya two kids off the atlas
With a gat that's bigger than Godzilla's back nigg*
You are not realer, in fact you're feel the effects
Of a crack dealer, y'all presidents since he smacked
And got a mack 10 with it, so I ain't gotta rap
But I'm thankful for that, don't mistakin' me black
Cuz you'll be stankin' in the back of a fkin' Cadillac
Eminem
I'ma get snuffed, cuz I ain't said enough to pipe down
I pipe down, when the White House is wiped out
When I see that little Cheney dike get sniped out
Lights out, b*tch adios, goodnight gunshot (AHH!)
Now put that in ya little pipe and bite down
Think for a minute cuz the hype just died down
That I won't go up in the Oval Office right now
And flip whatever ain't tied down upside down
I'm all for America, fk the government
Tell that C. Delores Tucker sl*t to suck a d*ck
Motherfker ducked, what the fk? son of a b*tch
Take away my gun, I'm gonna tuck some other s**t
Can't tell me s**t about the tricks of this trade
Switchblade, with a little switch to switch blades
And switch from a six to a sixteen inch blade
s**t's like a samurai sword or sensai
s**t just don't change to this day
I'm this way, still tell that utsl-ay itchb-ay
Ucks-ay my ikcd-ay, 'scuse my igp-ay atinl-ay
But uckf-ay you igp-ay
Chorus: 50 Cent (sung)
This rap game, this rap game
I ain't sellin' my soul for this rap game
And I ain't diggin' no hole for this rap game
Man, I'm tellin' you, no it ain't happening
This rap game, this rap game
I ain't sellin' my soul for this rap game
I ain't diggin' no hole for this rap game
This rap game, this rap game
Kon Artist
I wouldn't wanna be drinkin', drowned in my own inequity
But fked that I'ma rap 'til y'all all get sick of me
And clutch my nuts sack and spit all who pick at me
A pitt and rott mix, fk the dogs you sic on me
I'm sayin' you motherfkers don't know us, quit playin'
If I'm broke, then I'm breakin' up in the place where you layin'
You know, same s**t every nigg* done in his life
I look at this, why speak on when I want when I write
So why should I ever fear another man
If he bleed like I bleed, take a pi*s and he stand?
OK, you win, you can say we can't rap
But no Source never made me not buy an album when they say it was whack
Kuniva
I walk in that party and just start bussin' gunshots and screaming
Right after I hear the last verse of "Self Destruction"
This liquor makes me wanna blast the chrome
To let you know +The Time+ without Morris Day and Jerome (nigg*)
I'm low down and shifty, quickly call Swifty
To do a drive-by on the ten speed with 50
Ya feelin' lucky? Squeeze
I catch you outside of Chuckie Cheese
With ya seed, you be an unlucky G
My lifestyle is unstable, a partyin' addict
They said no fightin' in the club so I brought me a 'matic
Coughin' the static, I jump , call me a rabbit
Poppin' the tablet and guns that saw you in half
Chorus: 50 Cent (sung)
Believe me, we run this rap s**t, fo sheezy
Make makin' millions look easy
Everywhere you turn you see me, you hear me
Believe me, before you see my pistol in 3-D
No time to call a peace treaty
Dial 911 cuz you need the- police to help you believe me
Proof
I sn*tch the chalk from the sidewalk and pi*s on the curb
This is absurd, these street twistin' my words
We finally could "Say Goodbye to Hollywood"
Cuz Proof and Shyne man s**t nothin' in common
The nastiest band with gas in each hand
We never bow down to be a flash in the pan
No remorse, fk ya stature dog
Nothin' to do with hands when I clap at y'all
Put your jaw on the ground with the four and the pound
Then I'm gone outta town 'fore the law come around
So we can battle with raps, we can battle with gats
Matter of fact, we can battle for plaques (This rap game)
Bizarre
I'm too fkin' r*tarded
I don't give a fk about my d*ck
That's why I'm datin' Lorraina Bobbet
My crew had an argument, who was the largest
Now they all is dead and I roll as a solo artist
Plus I made all the beats and wrote all the raps
Well I really didn't, but I did accordin' to this contract
I was thrown in the snow with nowhere to go
Freezin' 20 below, forced to join Bel Biv Devoe
My little girl, she shouldn't listen to these lyrics
That's why I glued her headphones to her ear to make sure she hear it
If rap don't work, I'm startin' a group with Garth Brooks
Hahahaha, 50 sing the hook
Chorus: 50 Cent (sung)
This rap game, this rap game
I ain't sellin' my soul for this rap game
And I ain't diggin' no hole for this rap game
Man, I'm tellin' you, know it ain't happening
This rap game, this rap game
I ain't sellin' my soul for this rap game
I ain't diggin' no hole for this rap game
This rap game, this rap game