Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Guru
Vocals
Audio Two
Sampled Artist
DJ Premier
Scratches
QB Finest
Sampled Artist
Royce Da 5'9"
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Keith Elam
Songwriter
Albert Johnson
Songwriter
Asiah Lewis
Songwriter
Chris Martin
Songwriter
Cory McKay
Songwriter
Freddie Harper Byrd
Songwriter
Jean Claude Olivier
Songwriter
Jermain Baxter
Songwriter
Kejuan Muchita
Songwriter
Kiam Holley
Songwriter
Marlon Lu Williams
Songwriter
Nasir Jones
Songwriter
Percy Chapman
Songwriter
R. Montgomery
Songwriter
Samuel Barnes
Songwriter
Shalena Nikki Bratcher
Songwriter
Shawn Moltke
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
DJ Premier
Producer
Guru
Co-Producer
Eddie Sancho
Mixing Engineer
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Dexter Thibou
Assistant Engineer
Eminem
Executive Producer
Lyrics
What, you wanna battle me?
Yo man, how much money you got?
What, you wanna 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 turn the heat up daddy
I went to mackin' fly honeys on the train
To straight relaxing on the beach counting money getting brains
Soon as you rappers get a chance, you wanna floss a lot
You buy a iced-out watch because it cost a lot
Then you in the club stylin' with dough
Profilin' with ho's 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 whack
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 blasting your sons, I'm snatching your funds
You get your royal ass-whooping, you been asking for one
About to slap rappers around, bruise the game
Be thorough to the end
You man feel the drill
About to slap rappers around, bruise the game
What, you wanna 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 streets
While you're alone in your room, scared to death of the streets
I take a second to speak, i keep my weapon in reach
I ain't talking romance, but you'll get swept off your feet
I keeps this ghetto chick that loves to blast that metal shit
Groupies fake moves I get her to settle shit
You can't compare to this status right here
Legendary worldwide, we can battle right here
Listen junior, I'ma tear back your wig
This ain't TV, but I'll show you what a fear factor is
Stop grillin' me
All that frontin' is killing me
You leave me no choice but to hurt your feelings, G
About to slap rappers around, bruise the game (what you wanna battle me?)
Yo man, how much money you got?
Be thorough to the end
You man feel the drill
About to slap rappers around, bruise the game
About to slap rappers around, bruise the game
Be thorough to the end
About to slap rappers around
You know the drill
Be thorough to the end
About to slap rappers around, bruise the game
You know the drill
Writer(s): Jermain Anthony Baxter, Shalena Bratcher, Christopher Edward Martin, Marlon Lu'ree Williams, Percy Lee Chapman, Ryan D. Montgomery, Kiam Holley, Cory Mckay, Freddie Harper Byrd, Albert Johnson, Asiah Louis, Nasir Jones, Shawn Leigh Moltke, Samuel J. Barnes, Keith Elam, Jean Claude Olivier, Kejuan Waliek Muchita
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com