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    Eminem / Lyrics

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    "Battle" Lyrics

    Eminem feat. Gang Starr

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    Album:
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    Duration:00:04:24
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    Lyrics

    What? You want to battle me?
    Yo man, how much money you got?
    What? You want to battle me?
    Yo man, how much money you got?

    I used to guzzle 40's, and own a beat up Caddy
    Since the hood still love me, I'll turn the heat up daddy
    I went from mackin' fly honies on the train
    to straight relaxin' on the beach, countin' money gettin' brain
    Soon as you rappers get a chance you want to floss a lot
    You buy a iced out watch because it cost a lot
    Then you in the club, stylin' with dough
    Profilin' with hoes that we boned, a while ago
    You rookies haven't done enough laps around the track
    You had one hot single, but then your album sounds wack
    Son you bore me with your war stories
    You ain't even do that shit, so that's just more stories
    How you expect us to take you seriously?
    The look in my eye punk, has got you scared of me
    I'm blastin' your sons, I'm snatchin' your funds
    You catch a royal ass-whoopin', you've been askin' for one

    I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
    What, what?"{"We thorough to the end
    Yo man, you know the drill
    I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
    What what?
    You want to battle me?
    Yo man, how much money you got?

    Bitch you don't even know, the half about me
    I bring it straight to your chest, ask your staff about me
    I'm just a little bit older, plus a whole lot wiser
    I might advise ya, or I might pulverize ya
    I can visit any city, get respect in the street
    While you alone in your room, shook to death of the streets
    I'll take a second to speak, I keep my weapon in reach
    I ain't talkin' romance but you'll get swept off your feet
    I keeps a ghetto chick, that loves to blast and she peddle shit
    Groupies fake moves, I get her to settle shit
    You can't compare to the status right here
    Legendary worldwide, we can battle right here
    Listen junior, I'm a tear back your wig
    This ain't TV but I'll show you what a "Fear Factor" is
    Stop grillin' me, and all that frontin' is killin' me
    You leave me no choice but to hurt your feelings G

    I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
    What, what?
    You want to battle me?
    Yo man
    How much money you got?
    What, what?
    We thorough to the end
    Yo man
    You know the drill
    I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
    I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
    We thorough to the end
    I'm bout to slap rappers around
    You know the drill
    We thorough to the end
    I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
    You know the drill
    This song was submitted on November 24th, 2016 and last modified on November 24th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Peermusic Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Keith Elam, Albert Johnson, Nasir Jones, Kejuan Waliek Muchita, Christopher Anthony John Martin, Freddie Harper Byrd, Shawn Leigh Moltke, Ryan Montgomery, Marlon Lu'ree Williams, Samuel J. Barnes, Jean Claude Olivier, Shalena Bratcher, Kiam Holley, Jermai.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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