[Intro: JID]
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Smokin trees, I’m ridin round
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Come to my side of town
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Lately, it’s been goin, goin, goin, goin, goin down (Look, uh, look)
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[Verse 1: JID]
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All of my niggas gon ride with it
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In the pocket, the rocket like Kellen Mond
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Mama told me the power was in the tongue
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But it probably aint powerful as a gun
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All of you little cowards get devoured, I’m givin’ out flowers to anyone
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I aint been out the house in a minute ’cause I aint wit it if the money is miniature
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I been mindin my business, I’m business-minded
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I been spendin some time with the minister
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‘Cause them niggas spinnin shit and still sinnin in the City of God and its sinister
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Try to pray and rеpent in a synagogue or a mosque, a tеmple, a church
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Them brown skins sentiment niggas hurtin
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And murders a common courtesy, for certainly
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R.I.P. be on the shirt, search, lurk, murk, squirt, dirt, first (Forty-eight)
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My nigga doin four plus eight without a court date
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Talked the other day, he say he doin okay
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He good, he gainin weight, then got a sharp shank
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He made, he say they play, they gotta partake
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Homie got a heart full of hate and a face full of war paint
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Eyes all red, full of rage and its hard to escape from a dark place
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East side niggas from the A, niggas all ages
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Tryna sell a pound of the dog cage
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All the OGs round town was our age
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Danger, sex, and drugs, X and R-rated
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Danger, sex, and drugs, shit be outrageous
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But dont get this shit fucked up, my boy
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Ya lucked up once, then ya doubled up
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I dribble and pass it to the cup and triple-double it
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Get to the basket, get the cash and cuddle up
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Cover up, bundle up, batter up (Batter up)
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Um, talk a lot of smack and I could back it up
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Shawty wanna shag, wanna shack it up
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I can put her pussy on the platter like a platypus
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Nappy-head nigga, hair natted up
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I said, “Barbara,” a nigga tatted up
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I wont argue, nigga mad as fuck
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‘Cause they aint compatible, Im finna catapult
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But niggas know its goin
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(Down, down, down, down, do-do-do-do—)
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[Chorus: Eminem]
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If I run out of fuel, I wont
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What the fuck yall gon do if I dont
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Run out of fuel? (Down, down, down, down, do-do-do-do—)
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That scares the fuck out of you
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[Verse 2: Eminem]
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For a couple decades (Brrt)
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Been lettin this TEC spray (Brrt)
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From that day that I met Dre (Brrt)
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So you liable to catch strays (Brrt)
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From the second you press play (What?)
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I suggest they (What?)
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Do not test like an essay (Why?)
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‘Cause like where my homies out west stay (Yeah)
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We can just say (What?)
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Im like an R-A-P-E-R (Yeah)
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Got so many eses (Eses), S-As (Huh)
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Wait, he didnt just spell the word “rapper” and leave out a P, did he? (Yep)
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R.I.P., rest in peace, Biggie
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And Pac, both of yall should be living (Yep)
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But I aint tryna beef with him (Nope)
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‘Cause he might put a hit on me like, “Keefe D, get em”
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And thats the only way youre gonna be killing me (Nah)
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Aint gonna be on no beat, silly (Yeah)
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I beat the beat silly, on the grind like teeth gritting
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Call me “obesity” (Why?)
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You think its over? Wait, its just beginning
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Diss me and it aint gonna be pretty (Nah)
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Used to be yea tall, then I grew a little each day til I became God
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Like James Todd, now your arms are too short to BK brawl
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Indeed, they small like DJ Paul (Woo)
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My new Benz better than your truck by far
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Bitch, suck my balls
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You either smoke crack or youre playin stickball in the street
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‘Cause you must be on base if you thinkin you could touch my car (Yeah)
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But if the whole world was out to get you (What?)
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Itd turn you to a powder keg too
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Kyle Rittenhouse, spittin rounds, the TEC shoots like (Look out, brrt)
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And that aint no sound effect (Woo)
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Neither was that, SIG Sauer lets loose
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I dont condone gun violence at schools (Nah)
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But I cant get these voices out my head (Hey, Marshall, kill, kill, kill)
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Theyre putting words in my mouth like alphabet soup
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Got the most content on the continent
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And constant compliments give me confidence (Im a)
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To cross of common sense and incompetence (Uh)
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Im cognizant that conflicts a consequence (What?)
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Of accomplishments and comp is no competish
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Ive conquered and conked em into unconsciousness
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No conscience, I conjure this King Kong or just
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Call me “Kamikaze,” Im concoctin this (Woo, my bad)
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But nobodys sixteens are touchin these
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My fuckin index fingers fuckin the nina
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Clutchin the nine millimeter, tuckin the heat
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Got the toaster like an English muffin
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No, I mean “toast to” like you drink to somethin
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But its in a holster, I proceed to bustin
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Fuck around and get popped like Halyna Hutchins
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Like Im Alec Baldwin, what I mean is buckin you down
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Coup de grâce then, right between the fuckin eyes
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Shoot em all in, if you think youre fuckin with me
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Youre gonna suffer the fuckin repercussions
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The reapers comin, a heathen, Im Ethan Crumbley
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I keep replenishing fuel while the beat Im punishing
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[Chorus: Eminem]
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If I run out of fuel, I wont
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What the fuck yall gon do if I dont
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Run out of fuel? (Down, down, down, down, do-do-do-do—)
~#**************#~
That scares the fuck out of you
