[Intro: Bizarre] Yeah...huh...(hip hop, hip hop, hip hop) Turn my mic up a little bit (hip hop) Hit some of this Cali guido(hip hop) Listen to some muthafuckin'... (hip hop) Everybody got a little story they gotta tell Niggaz ain't heard my shit...hahaha The life of Bizarre...what!
[Verse 1: Bizarre] Hip hop, that's the way of life (Word?) If you think you're nice, then go grab the mic (Grab it!) Let me tell you my story, 'cause everybody got one Grab a pen and pad and start to jot some Always told myself that I would never be losin' Man I ain't had no hood, my mother was always movin' (Damn!) From Detroit to Texas, Texas to Detroit (C'mon!) God damn, Mama, what's the point? (the fuck?) So I would go in my room and pack my little bags (Aughh!) Jump in the truck with my step-dad When I was ten years old, I started to feel the hunger Got a little older, man, the force got stronger (Yeah!) And me and my rap partner wasn't seein' eye to eye So he picked up and started a group with some other guys (Haha) This is hip hop...man, I won't stop Yo Big Boi (What up?) Gimme a beatbox *beatbox*
[Chorus] Hip hop, hip hop Hip hop Hip hop Hip hop
[Verse 2: Bizarre] From the hip hop shop to Maurice Malone (Uh-huh) Ten years later, I'm still in the zone (Word?) 7 Mile and ??? where a star was born (Yeah!) United we stand, divided we swore (D-12!) And hell yeah, I lived in my car (Yeah!) Bitch, I was homeless, I would have slept in a jar (Hahahaha) And Dirty Management, I wish all the best But me and my niggas, we had to do what's best (That's right) It was a mess, all them taxes and accounts (What?) Checks started to bounce, niggas couldn't buy an ounce (Hell yeah) And now that we platinum, they diss our name (What?) Like we won't go to the car and get them thangs And beef, sometimes you don't have a choice To the fight with Whitey Ford to the beef with Royce (What?!) To the Ja Rules, Benzinos, and niggas in the club To the e-dubs and niggas you ain't heard of And man, I don't know how to use a gun (Naw) But I'll learn quick if the fuckin' beef come!
[Verse 3: Eminem] Man, I thought this was supposed to be hip hop, hip hop I'd rather be fishin' in flip flops, flip flops Or cross over to country like Kid Rock, did, I Can't see no country singers beefin' over some guitar Riff that Willie Nelson lifted from Bob Seger When I was younger I was so eager To have a gun I would do the same Couldn't wait to get to the shootin' range Me and my man Goofy Gary just tryin' to let loose some steam Muthafuckas laughin' 'cause I couldn't aim So I'd pull the fuckin' target closer and just shoot the thang I used to have this theory: keep three bullets in the gun It was a mandatory year up here in Michigan For each bullet if you got no CCW license I tried to apply for one, they said it'd take 5-6 months What the fuck am I supposed to do mean time when rivals come? Hide that sumbitch in the glovebox or inside the trunk Now, back to what my three-bullet theory was I'm triple platinum, I ain't tryin' to catch no murder one Figured I'd shoot to wound, probably miss with at least one But them other two gon' fuck his shoulder and his kneecap up Then I'ma say it's self defense, how come I had the gun Was because I was at the range, on my way back from This dude approached me on some bullshit I'd get a year for each bullet at the most As opposed to havin' a full clip in that That was my idiotic logic, it was basically for safety But it gave me power, and it made me crazy And psychotic, I just got retarded once I got it Thank God it was empty the night that I got caught with it What the fuck, man I thought that it was supposed to be...