Testo della canzone Crack a Bottle (dirty) (Eminem, Dr. Dre & 50 Cent), tratta dall'album Crack a Bottle

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

Oh!
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
Uh-oh, uh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of them got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I noticed there's so many of them
And there's really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse's kicking up dust
It's on till the break of dawn and we're starting this party from dusk

Ok! 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 frumunda 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
Fist the cup, the lady give her eighty some paper cut
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 as 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 with the center of attention, "It's true"
Not to mention back with a vengeance so here's 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
Uh-oh, uh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of them got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I noticed there's so many of them
And there's really not that many of us
And ladies love us, 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 like, "Oh, my!"
You ain't got to tell me why you're sick 'cause I know why
I dip through in that six tre like, "Sick 'em, Dre"
I'm an itch that they cant 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
Driving '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 maico, 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
Uh-oh, uh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of them got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I noticed there's so many of them
And there's really not that many of us
And ladies love us, 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 marajaun do what you want
Nigga on and on till the break of what?
Get the paper man I'm caking you know I don't give a fuck
I spend it like it don't mean nothing
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, burgundy bags, 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
Uh-oh, uh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of them got clothes
Now where's the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I noticed there's so many of them
And there's really not that many of us
And ladies love us, 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): Curtis James Jackson, Mark Christopher Batson, Andre Romell Young, Jean Gatson Renard, Marshall B. Mathers Iii, Trevor Anthony Lawrence, Dawaun W Parker
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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