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whether or not (original version) - d12 lyrics

[intro]
no one’s ready to deal with us

[hook * eminem]
whether you rap or you don’t rap
duck ‘fore you get rushed
get stuck f*cking with us
’cause….
we don’t give a f*ck

[verse 1 * kon artis]
oh, we sound like em clones, huh?
where the f*ck you think he started at holmes, huh?
skip the small talk, talking is a risk you take
kick yo’ face ’till yo’ head go through this window and break
break to the 1*9, denaun cause the gun*line
and collect bank from every weed spot like i’m one time
i’m ain’t the remorseful type, i’ll drink and still drive pr*ne to hit anything at any given night
f*ck leaving my roots, i’m still in cahoots with nincomp**ps who shoot out like troops in beirut
pull up in a red he*rs* with fred durst dressed like a nurse
with a coach purse screaming his throat hurts
[verse 2 * bizarre]
on my harley davidson, i ride down main street
i speed with my dad’s name on my ass cheek
gimme your ones and get robbed with a broken gun
got you doing more dances than puffy’s son
all you groupies that wanna get took
you gotta be 12 years old with a coloring book
and anyone else who wanna get f*cked, ’cause
(yeah b*tch, oh sh*t!)

[hook * eminem]
whether you rap or you don’t rap
duck ‘fore you get rushed
get stuck f*cking with us
cause….
we don’t give a f*ck

[verse 3 * eminem]
we interrupt your little world of perfectness
to bring you the sh*t to murder conservatives with
to curse and diss, with verses so merciless
these words can just f*ck up your high worse than this
{police sirens}
i’ve k!lled for less, and dumped bodies in the motherf*ckin’ wilderness
i’m a wildebeest, and i’ve concealed a piece even after i was busted by warren police
you think just because i got caught by these cops once
i’m not gonna carry shotguns to blow your wigs back like hamburgers without any top buns
so many d*mn murders i can’t even count one
two black guns, i don’t know maybe they’re magnums
i don’t know what the f*ck they’re called, i just grab them
12*gauge dumps in a drug*fueled rage, f*ck age, still goin’ through my “f*ck*you” stage
i’m a 27*year*old eleven*year*old, i’mma never grow up, b*tch, i ain’t gon’ ever get old
i’ll be sitting here with a cane and a beard
still insane and as weird as the day i came in here, brain in my rear, yeah
so until i’m wrinkled as robert van winkle, i’mma drop a d*mn single every godd*mn week, people
it’s d12, june 19th, so do like me, and go buy three, with no id
kids
[verse 4 * proof]
now why you wanna play a game with me, dangerously
the outcome’s hot, once split your brain in three
proof with crooked raps, always ask them “what the f*ck you lookin’ at”?
and invite the hook to scr*p
i gave my life to god, n*gga, then i took it back
move it black, this f*ckin’ gat’ll leave your cookie cracked
detroit’s derelict arrogant terrorist, straight on you aerospit
spit at various people to leave you with a body to get buried with
every hit was serious, n*ggas wanna know how murderous the dirty harry is
when i’m on your front porch with guns about to bust
’cause

[hook * eminem]
whether you rap or you don’t rap
duck ‘fore you get rushed
get stuck f*cking with us
’cause….
we don’t give a f*ck

[verse 5 * swifty mcvay]
when they run into swift they change directions
my sh*t so tight when hoes hear it they catch a yeast infection
you need protection, you gon’ fear it
i sn*tch away yo’ dna from existence, with no spirit
give up the carats or see the nine
f*ckin’ with mine is like farakhan chewin’ up swine, on christmas
with a white trailer b*tch on his arm, chillin’ in europe, havin dinner with a uncle tom
i attack k!llin’, f*ckin’ hoes like matt dillon
stackin’ obituaries higher than michael jackson’s ceiling
i leaves n0body livin’, i got satan shiverin’
hate what i’m deliverin’, you know the best then send ’em in, crack you with a fifth of gin
you got your men, but they all wearin’ skirts like them n*ggas from scotland, you hoes are not grim
don’t make me stop in with a mag, and blow yo feet up out yo top tens
[verse 6 * kuniva]
i’m the one they call in to torture ya
smackin’ your b*tch and forcin’ her in the back seat of an old corcia
kuniva’s the silent type, but under the silence is a violent life, usually followed by sirens and lights
get your throat cut by this tyrant’s knife, from high as a kite
and my get*a*way driver’s drivin’ right
f*ckin’ with hans will get you flipped like a baton, the deadliest bombs
wrap around n*ggas like camabons, you know i ain’t nothin’ to play with
thinkin’ you real like the matrix, f*ckin’ with n*ggas drippin’ off self*hatred
i’m on some live sh*t, rappers be on some “ready to die” sh*t
’till i put a ice pick, right through they eyelids, f*ck heaters, i’ll knock you out instead of shootin’
i hit hard, break yo’ f*ckin’ jaw like resolution
give up the cash and coat, or get your little brother’s classroom smoked
and the substitue gagged and choked
n*gga

[hook * eminem]
whether you rap or you don’t rap
duck ‘fore you get rushed
get stuck f*cking with us
’cause….
we don’t give a f*ck

[outro]
d12, june 19th
do ‘shrooms like me
get ready for it
trouble soon, baby
you know it
tell your mama and your sister too
’cause we f*ckin’ ’em

- d12 lyrics

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