Crack a Bottle - Eminem, Dr. Dre & 50 Cent

Eeeeeeeaahhh!
Ooh! 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!

So crack a bottle, let your body waddle
Don't act like a snobby model, you just hit the lotto
O-oh, o-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 Andre the Giant, Mr. Elephant Tusk
Fix your musk, you'll be just another one bit the dust
Just one of my mother's sons who got thrown under the bus
Kiss my butt, lick from unda 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 give her eighty-some paper cuts
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 hence 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
O-oh o-oh, bitches hopping in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of 'em got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I notice there's so many of 'em
And there's really not that many of us.
And ladies love us and my posse's kicking up dust.
It's on till 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're 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 damned, just fucked around and crashed my Benz
Drivin' '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
O-oh o-oh, bitches hopping in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of 'em got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I notice there's so many of 'em
And there's really not that many of us.
And ladies love us and my posse's kicking up dust.
It's on till 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 thang 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 marijuan', 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
I gets what the fuck I want, so what I trick?
Fat-ass Birkin bags, some classy shit
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
O-oh o-oh, bitches hopping in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of 'em got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I notice there's so many of 'em
And there's really not that many of us.
And ladies love us and my posse's kicking up dust.
It's on till the break of dawn
And we're starting this party from dusk



Credits
Writer(s): MARK CHRISTOPHER BATSON, ANDRE ROMELL YOUNG, MARSHALL MATHERS, DAWAUN W PARKER, CURTIS JAMES JACKSON, TREVOR ANTHONY LAWRENCE, JEAN GASTON RENARD
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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