Sun Doobie

"Get more for your money, when you fuck with Mr. Porter-r-r-r-r..."
 [Joell Ortiz]
 As long as I got my pen I don't need a friend
 We got ears that we each'll lend each other, my brother just hollered at me again
 He said he tired of all the lyin, deceivin and
 dick-ridin the people providin on every beat but when
 I do it it's stupid, I bruise it like a bad bitch
 I lose it, my music's a movement and they just mad stiff
 I told 'em it's mathematical in this pad lift
 Point 'em out and I will subtract him, with an ad lib
 See the fact is (what) I'm a bastard
 How can I not be (Macho, Man)? I'm a (Savage)
 In the past I was passive, now I'm mad bitch
 I'm spazzin, you get an Adidas classic where yo' ass is
 [Royce Da 5'9"]
 Eh-eh, eh-eh, Nickel ain't the one at all
 Snatch your vocal chords out then plug 'em in my wall
 You a knife at a gun fight, our shit is raw
 You a square, you're silverware in a civil war
 The Slaughterhouse wolf pack, riders under the moon
 The reason you itchin wit'cha lighter under your spoon
 I'm a lover, the lead bustin is old to me
 You put your head in her butt, I headbutt the ovaries
 God dipped me in war paint for all weathers
 I'm Mr. spill the liquor on my alcohol tether
 No need to ride with nobody, I feel the heat can help me
 Your jean's skinnier than Em is when he eatin healthy, hahaha
 [Chorus]
 WHOA, WHOA, WHOA
 WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, Shaaady!
 WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, WHOA
 WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, WHOA
 {"Mr. Porter-r-r-r-r..."}
 [Joe Budden]
 Outnumbered, outspoken, outcasted
 Outweighed outrageous odds and outlasted
 Outlandish, so I learned to outwit 'em
 I outsmart 'em, outgrew 'em, I outdid 'em
 Cream, out-bid 'em, team can't out-spit him
 (You could) Keep sleepin, your wet dream is out with him
 (See) Do a lil' yoga, a lil' kama sutra
 Steakhouse nigga, used to be a Ramen Noodler
 Heavy on B and E's, was a calm intruder
 Pumped a Ruger, moms called me con and loser
 I suggest you and your mans'll regroup (why?)
 Bet against it, and probably can't recoup - out!
 [Crooked I]
 I point a pistol at your mamma mia
 I'm sick as Tyson in the ring at the Colosseum with gonorrhea
 Fuck a rapper, my clapper black as Muhammadiya
 Fuck you R&B bitches, shut up! You not Aaliyah
 (Ha ha!) When Mr. Porter record a piano
 Producers may wanna order some ammo
 I'm a California corner reporter
 Your boy wasn't born with a quarter bein poor as a whore and I'm an aura
 It's sorta Soprano; look here
 We reinvent the wheel to have a (Good Year) - and y'all tired
 We like Tyler Perry mixed with Everlast
 The House of Payne/Pain, Slaughterhouse gang nigga!
 [Chorus]