[Intro: Yelawolf]

Aye Boo get these motherfuckers and pass that Jack

[Chorus: Gangsta Boo]

I see you bitches talking loud but you ain't saying shit

Get the fuck from round here, you don't rep my shit

You ain't from my city, you don't know about this

You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it, bitch

Now throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up

Throw it up, yeah, ho, you ain't ready for it, bitch

Throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up, throw it up

You ain't ready for it, bitch

[Verse 1: Yelawolf]

I already got, two cars in the yard that don't run

So why would I wanna break shit down for you

Better me confuse with the punchlines and bars that I launch

Here the king of debauchery come, with a cracker dick

To fuck you in that pussy carpet you munch

If I'm not hardly the one

You must be barely the one billionth

Really you kidding, bitch I'm the prodigal son

And I'm stunting like my Daddy

D-dr-d-drinking like my Mama

C-c-country like my uncles

Stuttering like a CD in a donk

BUMP, BUMP, BUMP, BUMP

And I'm in a blue Chevy

Running over motherfuckers in first

I ain't even shift gears yet

I ain't even here yet, I'm outta this Earth

Right, yeah ho

But I just hit the surface

And I'm bout to walk into a bank

With a shank and a black can of paint to check the clerk

Where the keys

Bitch you better check your purse

I gotta brick of herb

And I hit the syrup

And I'm feeling like I might just hit the curb

So get the fuck outta my way buddy

You don't wanna run around the chicken house with a heart of a puppy dog

Yelawolf and Eminem shit

Sufferin' succotash, yeah suck a dick bitch

[Chorus: Gangsta Boo]

I see you bitches talking loud but you ain't saying shit

Get the fuck from round here, you don't rep my shit

You ain't from my city, you don't know about this

You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it, bitch

Now throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up

Throw it up, yeah, ho, you ain't ready for it, bitch

Throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up, throw it up

You ain't ready for it, bitch

[Verse 2: Gangsta Boo]

Bitch please you don't wanna step up to this Misses

G-A-N-G-S-T-A Boo make a nigga hit his knees when

I'm up in the building, preachin' to my children

I don't be taking no shit from you haters

You'll make me hurt one of your feelings

Ha ha ha ha

Nah nah ni nah nah

Pick your face up off the floor

I got you feeling sad now

You be on that Hokiewag, Hokiewag is bullshit

Run into this Gangsta, have your preacher at the pulpit bitch

I was born on the Mississippi River

Take no shit from a bitch or a nigga

So, so crazy gotta fucked up temper

Bi-pola', not Nicki I'm worser, I'll hurt ya

I got a crazy-ass mind game

Ma nigga, I'm a lion, untamed

Hunt ya ass down in my jungle, I do this

I tell them hoes, you ain't ready for it bitch

[Chorus: Gangsta Boo]

I see you bitches talking loud but you ain't saying shit

Get the fuck from round here, you don't rep my shit

You ain't from my city, you don't know about this

You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it, bitch

Now throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up

Throw it up, yeah, ho, you ain't ready for it, bitch

Throw it up, yeah, ho, throw it up, throw it up

You ain't ready for it, bitch

[Verse 3: Eminem]

Me and Yelawolf

Tear the roof off this motherfucker

You ain't got the umph

You're a hoof to the foot of an elephant

Hello toots, you look so eloquent

That's what I tell a cunt

Come sit up front cause you're kicking my seat

And I'm trying to tell the cashier what I want

They say I act like an asshole

When I pull up at the White Castle

And I ask for an appli-cation

Throw it back in her face and

Tell the bitch I'm a rapper, then I wack her

In the head with a Whopper

That I bought from BK, you expect me to be proper

Bitch you better pop in a CD of me immediately slut, ho

Skidda dee da da

Prada, not a chance

I was thinking about buying you some clothes

But Target's closed

So I decided to mosey on over to K-Mart but the doors

Was locked, what about some shoes I thought

Great I suppose

So I go to Payless but what'dya know

They didn't carry a size eight in hoes

Oh, this is ugly boy swag

Putting toe tags on you motherfucking ho bags

What a Trailer Trash pioneer

I am yeah, that's why I'm here

I don't got a rhyme book it's more like a motherfuckin' diary of diarrhea

Me, Yelawolf and Gangsta Boo came here to show you a thing or two

Bout sign language, middle fingers aimed at you

So we don't gotta scream at you

Ow, I just bit my bottom lip, it was an accident

I went to go tell em all to go get fucked

But I'm never gonna bite my tongue

Little bitch, throw it up

[Outro: Yelawolf & Eminem]

What the fuck is this, White dog

Yo

Yo, what' up?

What' up?

Uh, you do that verse?

Yeah, I just killed that shit

What?

Nah, nothin'. Urm, yo, you know what I was thinking, man?

I think the one thing that er... that the album don't have

That might be missing

Is like er... a song for, like, for girls

Uh, what do you mean? For like bitches?

Nah, girls. Like a love song

No?!

We need one!

Like—love song, love song?

Yeah, man, bitches like love songs!