Aye boo get these motherfuckers and pass that jack I see you bitches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin' 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 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 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 archery 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 kiddin', bitch I'm the prodigal son And I'm stuntin' like my daddy, d-dr-d-drinkin' like my mama C-C-country like my uncles, stutterin' like a CD in a donk Bump, bump, bump, bump And I'm in a blue Chevy, runnin' 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 take your purse! I got a 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 walk around the chicken house With a heart of a puppy dog with Yelawolf and Eminem, shit, Sufferin' succotash, yeah suck a dick, bitch I see you bitches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin' 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 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 Bitch please you don't wanna step up to this Misses G-A-N-G-S-T-A will make a nigga hit his knees when I'm up in the buildin', preach it to my children I don't be takin' no shit from you haters You'll make me hurt one of your feelings (Ha ha ha), Nah nah ni nah nah Pick your face up off the floor, I got you feelin' sad now You be on that Hokey Wag, Hokey Wag is bullshit Run into this Gangsta, have your preacher at pull pit 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 Ha ha, 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!" I see you bitches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin' 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 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 I see you bitches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin' 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 kickin' my seat And I'm tryin' to the 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 an' 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 thinkin' about buyin' you some clothes But Target was 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, puttin' toe tags on you motherfuckin' ho bags What a trailer trash pioneer, I am here, 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 bucked! But I'm never gonna bite my tongue, little bitch throw it up I see you bitches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin'