[Intro: Eminem]

Yeah! I don’t know what else to say

I can’t, I can’t think of nothin'

I’m stumped, here we go!

On your feet! Stand up! Everybody hands up!

Uh, man, I don't know man

Every time I go to think of something played out to say

You already said it

[Verse 1: Royce da 5’9”]

I ain't callin' names 'cause all of y'all the same

Plus I'm the king, all my past pain all done changed up

All these plains, all these lames, since the Slaughter's came up

'Cause they know their hands tied, feet ball and chained up

Niggas be quick to call me the new 50 Cent

Because of my relationship with Marshall

Used to make me a little partial, but here's the brain fuck

We the same, 'cause

I'm probably 'bout to fall out with a young buck

While I attempt to fuck the fuckin' game up

Bitch, splat! Only thing I fear in here is chit-chat

You are hearin' bars like your ear against a Kit Kat

Shady guys like the Navy, try us, wavey bye-bye

Maybe my Glock can turn your top to Baby's Maybach

My shit is parvo, literally sick

Trust me, nigga, it's ugly to kill; the thing is, the bigger I get

The more disgustin' and fuckin' disfigured it gets

Niggas expect me to go pop, oh, stop

Y'all about the Champagne, I'm about the toast, I

Only fuck with mailmen with heroin from Boca

Niggas that'll smoke you while you starin' in your postbox

Only incense he enlightens when he's thinkin'

While that sinks in, I got a Brinks ink pen

I'm back! Motherfucker, notice the flyness on the cover

Of the XXL, I'm back from the dead

Like Tobey Maguire from the Brothers

How y'all realer? If I said it, I did it

If I didn't, I seen it first-hand like a card dealer

Give up the throne: your lease up; I am the Mona Lisa

That decoded Da Vinci Code, you throwin' your piece up

Is a waste of fake like a phony B-cup

Makin' the mistake was like my only teacher

Wait 'til they get a load of me, 'cause—

[Pre-Chorus: Royce da 5’9”]

I've got Guccis on my feet, diamonds on my neck

Diamonds on my wrist, bitches on my dick

But y'all already said that

Choppers in the trunk, models in the front

Bottles in the club, but I don't give a fuck

But y'all already said that

[Chorus: Eminem]

'Cause sometimes I feel like it's so hard for me

To come up with shit to say, ayy

I'm at a loss for words, 'cause y'all already said it all

I think I'm runnin' outta clichés

I'm gettin' writers block, psyche!

[Verse 2: Royce da 5’9”]

When I stand up in this booth, niggas notice it

Sittin' on the same boat that Noah built

Floatin' on the same water Moses split

Poetry in motion, but we sittin' on your grave site: overkill

Aren't you tired? Why are you so loud? Quiet

Real dudes move in silence, like a mute drivin' a new hybrid

You dudes is too excited

You a dude that'd try to sue a dude that's suicidal

You will just be another victim

I'm like a nickel of weed rolled in a doobie: I'm a little twisted

I roll like the end credits in movies, y'all just got scripted

Got y'all niggas' bitches bobbin' to this one when she wit' ya

When she with me, she bobbin', not vibin'

Tryna put her mind into the inside of my zipper

I'm a serpent with a purpose

Havin' problems? Not a problem

I've encountered, I have found elephants, lions, clowns

Will jump through hoops like they workin' for the circus

If the fire 'round the circle's right in front of them, fire rounds

Pun intended, gun extended, what are you marks askin'?

Car's Aston, started as a hard-top and I saw past it

Since I decided to start class, this all black, all glass

Panoramic roof been gettin' marked absent

I authorize my own all-access

Your bitch a whore, I'm a catch, she ball-catchin'

Her jaw's been broadcasted

All across the globe from the store to Japan

Her pussy need to be blocked and reported as spam

Interscope, I been this dope

Now sell it, my voicemail is full

Got bitches screamin' inside of envelopes

And they tryna mail ‘em to me

Tryna reach my phone, I don't know which one is harder:

Tryin' not to take your bitch or tryna get rid of my own

[Pre-Chorus: Royce da 5’9”]

I've got Guccis on my feet, diamonds on my neck

Diamonds on my wrist, bitches on my dick

But y'all already said that

Choppers in the trunk, models in the front

Bottles in the club, but I don't give a fuck

But y'all already said that

[Chorus: Eminem]

'Cause sometimes I feel like it's so hard for me

To come up with shit to say, ayy

I'm at a loss for words, 'cause y'all already said it all

I think I'm runnin' outta clichés

I'm gettin' writers block, psyche!

[Outro: Eminem]

Man, get the bozac!

We need to start bringin' that shit back (Mad flava!)

Man, fuck it, I'm 'bout to catch some wreck

(We in effect, money!)

Mad props to Royce for keepin' it real

On the strength, no diggity

I'm 'bout to go pull some hoes, get my mack on

Haters get the gas face!