9-1-1 – Eminem feat Boo Yaa Tribe, B Real
(As music starts)
Eminem
WHOOOOOOOOO!! HAHAHA
Guess who’s back!
Mommy! We’re home!
Say hello to my little friends!
DJ Muggs, Soul Assassins, Cypress Hill!
Everybody, Put your hands where my eyes can see em!
(Eminem)
Everywhere we go people know we roll deep as f_ck
40 50 Samoans aint no one wanna deal with us
50 Twizzy Obie there won’t be no hoe in us
They pop sh_t like they gonna do sh_t but no one does
When we move down to Texas back up to Los Angeles
We change the way we move so man up if you can’t adjust
You may end up getting rushed by too many to handle us
Its funny I guess money does have its advantages
And it isn’t that we just think that we can’t be touched
Its not like we’re just feelin ourselves that much it’s just
That if someone ever does put us in the clutch
We just know that ya’ll aint gonna be the one who’s gonna do it
Cuz first of all you’re pushy and everybody can see that
You f_ck around get caught in a spot that you shouldn’t be at
That you got no business being in and we aint even gonna be in it
No one’s gonna hear nothin no one’s gonna see the sh_t
And they’ll be in and up out it them boys is bout it bout it
And the noise from clips n rounds will be drownded out by the crowd
And you’ll be layin on the ground getting trampled by people dancing
Till the club closes and clears out and that’s when they see you flattened
Nobody saw it happen, all cuz the jaws are flappin
And you couldn’t stop yappin and took it passed rappin
It aint about the music no more, its about tryin to show off
And it feels like any minute the bomb is about to go off
Chorus: (Eminem)
Sh_t’s about to change cuz we aint playin no games
We aint budgin neither are they and we aint sayin no names
Sh_t just aint the same when the cage get to sprayin
Hip Hop is in a state of 9-1-1
It aint about hip hop cuz those days are gone
It aint about tryin to rip shop to get props no more
Its about tryin not to get popped and get dropped to the floor cuz
Hip Hop is in a state of 9-1-1
(Be Real)
I took the strap off my holster cuz sh_t is getting serious
All these drugs you be f_ckin with make you delirious
Thinkin you comin with heat yo son I’m curious
How long are you gonna hate us and judge us and jury us
Some people can never fade us they make us so curious
Mistake us for fakers homey with raider with glorious
We live it for real and others just makin the stories up
Illusions so broken so live it up you corny f_cks
If you take a f_ckin minute to think about what you done
When you stood against a gangsta who live and die by the gun
Caught a hot one sprayin you b_tches till there was none
I’m like a rollin stone homey I got you under my thumb
You silly little b_tches can end up right up in ditches
We cut you and give you stitches for envyin all our riches
Your game’s just like a midget you clockin the small digit
Dealin with a giant goliath people that’s how we live it come on
Chorus
(The Godfather)
I’m gangsta gangsta who come to pay you a visit
On this sh_t that you call hip hop disfunction is where its headed
When I put it in motion my focus is getting breaded
My appetite for destruction is blasted because I say we got you
Stumblin for cover this music dyin in number
But you wouldn’t pause and wonder admittin its all glamour when you
Enter the business you thinking you runnin sh_t
You witness that funny sh_t you b_tches that aint sh_t
We gangsta we blast first ask questions later all these
Imitators paradin like they some playas tryin to
Save hip hop the task is something greater
Cuz we old fashion coded we loyalty motivators
Getting caught and not telling or more like killin not carin I’m ridin
A gangsta feelin no ferin when gangtas dyin I’m in a
Food circle with homeys that’s suppose to bleed
On a 8 mile mission with Cypress and OG’s
Chorus
