Oh, ladies and gentlemen
The moment you've all been waiting for
In this corner, weighing 175 pounds
With a record of 17 rapes, 400 assaults, and 4 murders
The undisputed, most diabolical villain in the world
Slim Shady (let's go)

So crack a bottle, let your body waddle
Don't act like a snobby model, you just hit the lotto
Oh-oh, oh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe
Got one ridin' shotgun and no, not one of 'em got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I noticed there's so many of 'em
And there's really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse's kickin' up dust
It's on 'til the break of dawn
And we're starting this party from dusk

Okay, let's go

Back with André the Giant, Mr. Elephant Tusk
Fix your musk, you'll just be another one bit the dust
Just one of my mothers sons who got thrown under the bus
Kiss my butt, lick fromunda cheese from under my nuts
It disgusts me to see the game the way that it looks
It's a must I redeem my name and haters get mushed
Bitches lust, man, they love me when I lay in the cut
Fisticuffs, the lady gave her eighty-some paper cut
Now picture us it's ridiculous you curse at the thought
'Cause when I spit the verse the shit gets worse than Worcestershire sauce
If I could fit the words, it's picture perfect, works every time
Every verse, every line, as simple as nursery rhymes
It's elementary, the elephants have entered the room
I venture to say we're the center of attention, it's true
Not to mention back with a vengeance, so here's the signal
Of the bat symbol, the platinum trio's back on you hoes

So crack a bottle, let your body waddle
Don't act like a snobby model, you just hit the lotto
Oh-oh, oh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe
Got one ridin' shotgun and no, not one of 'em got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I noticed there's so many of 'em
And there's really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse's kickin' up dust
It's on 'til the break of dawn
And we're starting this party from dusk

Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. Dre

They see that low rider go by they're like, "Oh my"
You ain't got to tell me why you're sick 'cause I know why
I dip through in that six-trey, like "Sick 'em, Dre"
I'm an itch that they can't scratch, they sick of me
But hey, what else can I say? I love L.A.
'Cause over and above all, it's just another day
And this one begins where the last one ends
Pick up where we left off and get smashed again
I'll be dammed, just fucked around and crashed my Benz
Driving 'round with a smashed front end
Let's cash that one in
Grab another one from out the stable
The Monte Carlo, El Camino or the El Dorado?
The hell if I know
Do I want leather seats or vinyl?
Decisions, decisions
Garage looks like Precision Collision
Or Maaco, beats quake like Waco
Just keep the bass low, speakers away from your face though

So crack a bottle, let your body waddle
Don't act like a snobby model, you just hit the lotto
Oh-oh, oh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe
Got one ridin' shotgun and no, not one of 'em got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I noticed there's so many of 'em
And there's really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse's kickin' up dust
It's on 'til the break of dawn
And we're starting this party from dusk

And I take great pleasure in introducing, 50 Cent

It's bottle after bottle
The money ain't a thing when you party with me
It's what we into, it's simple
We ball out of control like you wouldn't believe
I'm the Napalm, the bomb, the Don, I'm King Kong
Get rolled on, wrapped up, and reigned on
I'm so calm, through Vietnam, ring the alarm
Bring the Chandon, burn marijuana, do what you want
Nigga, on and on 'til the break of what?
Get the paper, man, I'm cakin', you know I don't give a fuck
I spend it like it don't mean nothin'
Blow it like it's supposed to be blown, motherfucker I'm grown
I stunt, I style, I flash the shit (uh-huh)
I gets what the fuck I want, so what I trick? (Yeah)
Fat-ass Birkin bag, some classy shit (haha)
Jimmy Choo shoes, I say, "Move," a bitch move

So crack a bottle, let your body waddle
Don't act like a snobby model, you just hit the lotto
Oh-oh, oh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe
Got one ridin' shotgun and no, not one of 'em got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I noticed there's so many of 'em
And there's really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse's kickin' up dust
It's on 'til the break of dawn
And we're starting this party from dusk

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Andre Romell Young, Curtis James Jackson, Dawaun W. Parker, Jean Gatson Renard, Mark Christopher Batson, Marshall B. III Mathers, Trevor Anthony Lawrence