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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Eminem
Vocals
Luis Resto
Keyboards
Royce Da 5'9"
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Marshall Mathers
Songwriter
R. Montgomery
Songwriter
Brytavious Lakeith Chambers
Songwriter
R. Spence Jr
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Eminem
Mixing Engineer
Tay Keith
Producer
RONNY J
Producer
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Joe Strange
Recording Engineer
M. Strange
Recording Engineer
Tony Campana
Recording Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Tay Keith, fuck these **** up
Yeah
[PreChorus]
Brain dead, eye drops
Pain meds, cyclops
Daybed, iPod
"May-back," Maybach
Trainwrecks, sidewalks
Payless, high-tops
K-Fed, IHOP
Playtex, icebox
[Chorus]
That's how much we have in common (Yah!)
That's how much we have in common (Whoa!)
Up on this mic, when we're on it (Yah)
That's how much we have in common (Yuh!)
That's how much we have in common (Woo!)
That's how much we have in common
We are not alike, there's nada like us on the mic (Yah!)
[Verse 2]
I don't do Jordans and Audemars
I do explosions and Molotovs
Y'all blowin' smoke as if y'all ain't washed
I blow the smoke from the car exhaust
Fly into a party I am not invited to
Feelin' like the streets need me
I ain't gotta dance, 'long as my Ferrari Spyder move like C-Breezy
I don't gotta hire goons, I'd rather try to buy the moon and breathe freely
The sky is blue, the tires new, the Maserati white and cool like G-Eazy
Why these dudes tryna figure out how to do a freestyle as fly as me?
I'm confused tryna figure on how to do Kapri Styles and Mya G
Everybody doin' chick joints, prolly rob these lil' dudes at fist point
'Member everybody used to bite Nickel
Now, everybody doin' Bitcoin
We don't got nothin' in common (No!)
We don't got nothin' in common (No!)
Y'all into stuff like doubled up styrofoam cups
On them uppers and downers (Woo!)
I'm into stuff like doublin' commas
Find me a brother who's solid
To count the shit up and then bust the shit down with
If the cops hit us up, we can flush the shit down
We can not give a fuck, shit a fuckin' colonic
Sellin' your cock and your butt for a follower
Possible couple of dollars, you powder sniff
Now you slip and call it a power trip, a product of politics
Y'all went from profit and toppin' of the charts
To dropped in the park in a pile of shit
Knowledge is power, but powerless if you got it
And you do not acknowledge it
Y'all music sound like Dr. Seuss inspired it
Hirin' strippers, prostitute retirin'
We can spit it for your advance
I'm fit to be king, you cut out to fit in Prince pants, you ****-
[PreChorus]
Brain dead, eye drops
Pain meds, cyclops
Daybed, iPod
"May-back," Maybach
Trainwrecks, sidewalks
Payless, high-tops
K-Fed, IHOP
Playtex, icebox
[Chorus]
That's how much we have in common (Yah!)
That's how much we have in common (Whoa!)
Up on this mic when we're on it (Yah)
That's how much we have in common (Yuh!)
That's how much we have in common (Woo!)
That's how much we have in common
We are not alike, there's nada like us
[Verse 3]
You say you affiliated with murderers, killers (Aye!)
The people you run with are thuggin' (Gang!)
But you just a wannabe gunna (Gang!)
Like you was gonna do somethin'
Actin' like you catchin' bodies (Aye!)
And you got juice, lil' youngin, ya buggin'
You ain't never even been charged in connection
With battery, bitch, you ain't plugged into nothin'!
'Rap God' spit lyrical bullets
And gats cocked, your partners better tool up
This has not to do with muscular
But have guns for sure, you better put a
Strap on, in other words if you're gonna
Roll up with your (Gang!)
You gon' need a arsenal
'Cause this bar is over your head
So you better have arms if you're gonna pull-up (Skrrt!)
Oh, you run the streets, huh?
Now you wanna come and fuck with me, huh?
This little cocksucker, he must be feelin' himself
He wants keep up his tough demeanor
So he does a feature, decides to team up with Nina
But next time, you don't gotta use Tech N9ne
If you wanna come at me with a sub, Machine Gun
[Verse 4]
And I'm talkin' to you
But you already know who the fuck you are, Kelly
I don't use sublims and sure as fuck don't sneak diss
But keep commentin' on my daughter, Hailie
I keep on tellin' you motherfuckers, bitches in case you forgot, really
You need Ja memories jarred like strawberry or pineapple, apricot jelly
I respond rarely, but this time Shady 'bout to sound off
Like a fuckin' cocked semi Glock, Demi-God
Let me put a fuckin' silencer on this lil' non-threatenin' blond fairy cornball takin' shots at me
You're not ready, fool, break yourself like Rock Steady Crew
Obviously, I'm not gettin' through
We can get it poppin' like Redenbach'
Lettin' off like Remy Ma, heavy artillery
Godzilla harsh with a hard shell
With a motherfuckin' heart bigger than Bizarre's belly
Only time you'll ever say, "I lost"
You'll be talkin' 'bout Fetty Wap, better call Diddy
Just to try to get me off and you better hope I don't call Trick Trick
Bitch, this shit don't fly in our city
Punk, you don't disrespect OGs, R.I.P. Prodigy
[Verse 5]
Sold Dre my soul and then told him the moment he signed me
That I'll be the most hated, though
Made it so that there's no shame, it's okay to own it
'Cause life is a bitch, she's a bow-legged ho
But now those days are over
I Harvey Weinstein, a bathrobe hangin' open
My code name is groper, I roleplay with lotion
I fucked on the world, then I throw away the Trojan!
[Verse 6]
Old lederhosen with homemade explosives
I blow eighty holes in you
Don't make me go in, I OJ the flows
And I'm insult to injury, Rolaids to Goldman
I'm throat spray and Motrin, I throated Nicole
As they both there to choke and my whole blade is soakin'
I double-edge sword it 'cause one place I poke
And I stick and I turn in a rotatin' motion
[Verse 7]
Invisible with the pen, I'm at the pinnacle of sick individuals
Stick my dick and put the tip in at minimal
I'm fuckin' these syllables, I let 'em lick on my genitals
I'm a fuckin' invincible, indefensible, despicable, difficult prick
A little bit unpredictable, I spit the formidable
That you bitches fuckin' with the original
I consider me and Nickel identical, but not us
The only thing we have in common's I'm a dick and you suck
Otherwise one has nothin' to do with the other
None come close to skunk, bug, soldier
Tongue, shrub, shoulder, one month older
Sponge, mug, folder, nun, rug, holster
Lug nut, coaster, lung, jug, roaster
Young Thug poster, unplugged toaster
[Chorus]
That's how much we have in common (Yah!)
That's how much we have in common (Whoa!)
Up on this mic when we're on it (Yah)
That's how much we have in common (Yeah!)
That's how much we have in common (Woo!)
That's how much we have in common
We are not alike, there's nada like us—
Man, fuck this shit, let's go
Written by: Brytavious Lakeith Chambers, Ryan Daniel Montgomery, Marshall Bruce Mathers III, Ronald Oneil Spence, Jr.