10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5 ,4, 3, 2, 1.
Ready or not here we come, here comes trouble in the club.
11,12,13, pistols big as M 16's.
How the fuck we sneak in with this many heaters in our jeans?
Nina, 2 nina's, a peice and they dont even see us.
Some shit pops off we squeeze each one, they gonna think its machine guns.
Vanos vo vano, bananas in our flannels.
Hands around our colt handles, hold them like roman candles.
So, vannas vo vannas, banana fanna fo fannas.
Who come back all bananas, banna clips loaded.
Managers, bouncers, and the club owners, the motherfuckers don't want us
to come up on and rush in the club and run up in it with a bunch of
motherfuckers from Runyan, steady poppin them onions.
Ready set to go nut up, prepare to tear the whole club up.
Fixin' to get into some shit, just itchin' to choke someone up.
You know we finna loc'n when we mix coke with coke and nut rum up.
So yeah, yeah, oh what up, see my people throw shit up.
See you talk that hoe shit now, when you down you wont get up.
And can't sit up your so slit up, the ambulance wont sew you up,
they just throw you up in the trunk once they tag your big toe up.
Heater no heater, automatic no matic.
Mac or no mac it don't matter if I have or dont have it.
You never know what im packin' so you just dont want no static
and open up a whole can of whoop ass. You dont wanna chance to
risk it no biscuit, milli mac or mac milli.
Really wodie dont be silly, homie you dont know me really.
You're just gonna make yourself dizzy wonderin' what the dealy.
Fuck it lets just get busy D-Twizzy's back in the hizzy!
[Eminem - Chorus]
Git up now!
Lets get it crackin', git. It's on and poppin'.
This D12 is back in this bitch, uh, there aint no stoppin'.
We're gonna get it crackalatin'.
What you waitin' for the wait is over,
say no more for tryin' to play the wall and quit hatin'.
Git up now!
Notice you're sittin', what the fuck is you deaf?
You motherfuckers dont listen? I said,
we bout to get this motherfucker crackalatin',
What the fuck you waitin for get off the wall and quit hatin'.
I keep a shit load of bullets a pitpull to pull it out (?)
and automatically explode on motherfuckers until they mouth be closed
permanently. You get burned until I quickly
you can not hit me niggas to terrified to come get me.
Tempt me if you think Swifty won't send a slug, people run.
When the reaper comes, the repercussion gon' leave your blood.
Inglewood, steppin' without a weapon, you leave, you gone,
I'm still rollin' with stolen toasters while on parole.
Snatch you out our home, like eviction notices hoe.
When I unload, I'm known to never leave witnesses to roam.
When I'm blowed, I'll write the wicked in scroll,
at the toll. When I'm sober I'm prone to roll up and disconnect your soul, nigga.
Now it's been proven it's about to be a misunderstanding'
in furniture moving, bullets flying, lawyers & mothers suing.
Cause niggas don't know the difference, you bitches just stick to fiction,
it's sickening, you can't even walk in my jurisdiction, rippin' it.
Grippin' the pump, and who wanna fuck with a walking psychopathic
pyromaniac Shady cats with 80 gats.
And maybe thats the reason that you gon' get it the worst
and since you jumpin' in front of everybody you gon' get it first.
I dispurse the crowd with something vigor and versatile.
so go on and record you verses now while you got a mouth.
And it's not a joke, it's some kind of riddle,
Kunizzle will lift up a 12 gizzle and throw a party from my equittle.
And a glock that ? stop you from walking.
Bullets'll hit your liver, I'll even shoot native americans,
at any ? nigga. We back in your life and back in your wife,
hit you in your back with a knife and get it crackin' tonight.
[Bizarre - Outro]
D12. We baacckk.
Runyan Ave. soldiers.
Who the fuck want it with us?
Writers: Ondre C Moore , Von M Carlisle , Luis Resto , Marshall B Iii Mathers
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC , Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics licensed by LyricFind