Bad Meets Evil Scary Movies

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

[Em] Yo, Slim Shady!

[R5] Yo, Royce 5-9

[Em] Y’all wanna make a movie?

[R5] What..

[Em] We got the film right here



Yeah I’m one of them pretty rappers

Buck if I really hafta, I really slap ya

King of Detroit who they namin the city after (what?)

Scandalous partners, whose grammar hammers the hard shit

into your heart with, content, yo who wanna start with

experts, Bad and Evil is comin soon

MC’s get stuck, head first back in they mother’s womb

This shit is written, in my eyes I’m the illest MC spittin (what?)

Leavin all of you cats shittin kittens

I gotta diss you, my niggaz be cockin pistols

Shot and split you, fuck splittin the profits with you (what?)

Six percent, of y’all niggaz is just pretend

Clicks with clits, pussy niggaz stink with dicks (what?)

Niggaz act bully, and blast for the fast penny

My auto is fully, plenty of niggaz packin semi

Speak darts; yo you get paid? Rhymin about it is the sweet part

You can’t be street smart with a cheap heart

Five Nine, a street nigga with deep feelin (what?)

I keep illin, my steez willin to keep killin (what?)

Fuck rap, a lot of y’all all is just acts

Trust that – you rhyme all wack on rough tracks

Bust and then we all black when you get bust back at

Fuck that, you get blast at, you get laughed at

And I’ma spit thunder (what?) stick to my guns

Niggaz is finished before they gimmicks, one-hit wonders

What? Big balls, that’s why when I spit, your clique stalls

I’ma pit bull, I’m just dog, I’m just raw (what?)

Split y’all, holla, “It’s on!” Then I diss y’all

All of y’all niggaz get pissed on claimin you pissed off

[Chorus x2: Eminem and Royce]

Y’all want drama? Wanna make a scary movie?

Rappers comin in with they team and carry toolies

You can jump right out of the screen and barely move me

We hard-hittin, directin and starrin in it


The one man on the planet that’ll drive off of the Grand Canyon

Hop out of a Grand Am and land in it handstandin

Any man plannin to battle will get snatched out of his clothes

so fast it’ll look like an invisible man standin

I’m headed for Hell, I’d rather be dead or in jail

Bill Clinton, hit this (here) and you better inhale

Cause any MC that chooses to go against me

is gettin takin advantage of like Monica Lewinksy (Leave me alone!)

Came home in a frenzy, pushin a ten speed

Screamin to Aunt Peg (AUNT PEG!!!!)

with three spokes stickin out of my pant leg

Fuck a headache, give me a migraine

Damnit I like pain (AHH!)

and you should be anywhere that a mic ain’t

You rap knowin you wack

You act up and I’m throwin you down a flight of steps

then I’m throwin you back up em

If they don’t like the track, fuck em

The rap struck em harder then gettin hit by a Mack truck

and then backed up on

And any half-assed known rapper to trespass

better be ready for the second Celebrity Deathmatch (Ding! Ding!)

So tell the medic to bring the medication and quickly (Hurry up man!)

I’m sicker than a Tupac dedication to Biggie

I’m free-fallin feet first out of a damn tree

to stampede your chest ’til you can’t breathe

And when I’m down to my last breath

I’ma climb the Empire State Building and get to the last step

and still have half left


[Em] Bad.. the bad..

[R5] Uhh, when the bad meets the bad.. yo..

[Em] The evil

[R5] Take the evil with the evil

[Em] Put em together

[R5] What? Nine-nine

[Em] Two times.. Slim Shady.. Royce the Five Nine

Bad Meets Evil I’m On Everything

All these little young kids ain’t got no direction

Shit, these little kids is on everything

Syrup. Painkillers. Cigarette. Weed. Hennessy. Vodka. hahaha ha

I’m on everything [x5]

Syrup. Painkillers. Cigarette. Weed. Hennessy. Vodka. hahaha ha

I’m on everything [x5]

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

I’m on syrup painkillers, cigarette, weed

Sober don’t interest me

I’m on everything

Bout to sip the liquor like it’s caine

That’s how high I am

I take painkillers to ease the pain

Though I ain’t in pain

No, we, ain’t the same, we drunk

I’m on everything

Sick when I kick it, gout

Me sobering up, ha, alf

Cash rules everything, acid tab, hash, ‘rooms

I done woke up with a fucking tiger in my bathroom

I am fucking high – blahbl – high -blahbl high -blahbl high

Menace to society I feel sorry for your mother

Me and Vicious on ‘shrooms

Call us the Mario brothers

Back down, we never back down

Never laid out

Can’t put my back down

Syrup, Painkillers, Cigarette, Weed, Hennessy, Vodka,

I’m on everything [x5]


Painkillers, I call ’em cane pillars

‘Cause to hold me up when I take ’em

I need a cane and pillars

I’m on everything

Sick when I kick it, barf

Me sobering up, fart

I crush ya brain like a pill crusher, let’s crush a pill yeah

Fuck, I think I just crushed my last Tylenol 3 up

Grab the key up off the counter till the camper left the crib

Man, whoda knew that 3 in the morning I’d still be up

Could barely see up over the steering wheel, crashed the whip, tore a tree up

On my way to the dealer’s, tryna re-up

Call me Brett Favre, spell it F-A-V-R-E, yep

It’s wrong, other words I just fucked my RV up

Bitch, it’s on again yeah, break that Klonopin in half

While I smoke some chronic in the cab with Donovan McNabb

And I dye my hair back blonde again and laugh

I’m the real macaroni you cheesy bitch, I’m demonic with the Kraft

There’s a devil in my noodle, you angel hair pasta

Flows dreaded like some fucking tangled hair rasta…

… farian, Jamaican, relax, man

I’ll send a fucking axe at you if you insist on a fucking accent

Bad and Evil is back with an epidural, check ya girl

‘Cause after we prop you up, we propping her up

So, baby, come put ya feet up in these stirrups

Your boyfriend better find another fucking hornets nest to stir up

We rap like we’re on

Syrup, Painkillers, Cigarette, Weed, Hennessy, Vodka,

I’m on everything [x5]

Syrup, Painkillers, Cigarette, Weed, Hennessy, Vodka,

I’m on everything [x5]

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

I’m on syrup, painkillers, cigarette, speed, hene-huh huh


It’s Eminem and him again, my sentiments exactly

I told that bitch to get at me, then the bitch attacked me

Kid you not, I’m lit up as fuck, tablecloth tucked in my pants

Then I’m hearing dishes drop, as I walk away from my dinner with schmucks


Then I aimed to the front of the K-Mart shopping center

With’ a coupon book and a hundred and ten bucks

And a bunch of change and a wife beater with a mustard stain

I’ll crush your brain like I’m crushing pills

What the fuck’s the motherfucking deal?

This shit’s making me feel like I’m tryna do a motherfucking cartwheel up a hill

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

How many bars, how many tabs?

A-c-I-d, y-e-s, ’cause I’m sniffing NYES


F-u-c-ked up, and it’s obvious

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

Smoking Henny in my chest


I’m B-A-N-A-N-A-S

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

I’m a C-O-C-O-N-U-T


Put this CD in and then you’ll see

The sequel to Scary Movie, bad is to evil, the roofie to Roethlisberger

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

You are gonna wind up six feet deep

Under that shits creek so I hope that you want preservers


You could put a turd on the plate

Silverware on the tablecloth to serve us

You don’t bring shit to the table

I mean your grill like a Seville when a mark gets murdered

You pushing the envelope, and I’m shovin’ that whole post office further

Right off the surface, to the serpents in the darkest and the farthest corner

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

How many bars, how many bars

Maui, wowee, sour diesel, how many jars,

To all my people I’ll be the Mars, mommy come on

She can actually wrap my nutsack ’round the back of her neck in a bathroom stall

And she can just puke from sipping this piss from my 24-inch catheter cord


I’m the type that’ll take a bath with’ a whore

Drown her, bang her head on the passenger door

When I’m stashin’ ‘er in the back, smackin’ her forehead on the dash

And it’s accidentally blowin’, a Benz jeep horn

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

My friends be knowin’ that when I’m on a binge, I’m stingy

Even when I’m ten deep in a room with the MG and and with’ Lindsay Lohan and she on…

Bad Meets Evil The Reunion


Ayo, this next song, is a true story (Come here, bitch!)


Cause some things in this universe

Don’t make sense but somehow (Always seem to fuckin’ work)

[Verse 1: Eminem]

Flying down I-75 ’bout to hop on 696

I look over this fucking chick’s tryna fix her makeup

I’m like bitch, you ain’t a plastic surgeon

I advise ya to put up your visor, I’m getting kinda ticked

You’re blocking my side mirror, she’s like yeah, so? I’m like so?

You gon’ need a stitch you keep actin’ like that, ho

I look like your husband slut? That’s a rhetorical question

You talk to me like you talk to him, I’ll fuck you up

In fact, get in the backseat, like the rest of my dates

No bitch rides shotgun, what taxi?

Stop and pick you some Maxi Pads up is that what you actually ask me?

Bitch reaches over and smacks me

And says I annoy the fuck outta her, get in the fucking back

Put on your slut powder, you slut, what? Shut the fuck up now

Or get your feelings hurt, worse than my last chick when

I accidentally butt dialed her and she heard me spreading AIDS rumors about her

Turn the radio up louder, make it thump

While I bump that Relapse CD, tryna hit every bump in that cunt

Thought I snap back in that accent cause she kept asking me

To quit callin’ her cunt, I said that I cunt! she said, Marshall

[Hook: Eminem]

You ain’t really like that, oh-oh-oh

You’re putting on a show, where’s your mic at?

Cause you’re breaking my heart

She said you’re breaking my heart

[Verse 2: Royce Da 5’9″]

Uh, pull up to the club in a Porsche, not a Pinto

While Marshall’s at a white trash party, I’m at drama central

I walk up in there looking at my phone, on Twitter tweetin’

I’m feelin’ a bunch of bitches lookin’ at a nigga, cheesin’

I get approached by this little skeeser

She asked me am I the realest G, cause I’m Gucci from head to feet

I said, yeah, I’m really is cause I spit in your man’s face

Like Cam did that little kid on Killing Season

She said I’m feeling your big ego, wait, am I talking wrong?

I said nah, I’m a walking Kanye/Beyonce song

She said I’m mad at you, I said why?

She said why you never make songs for chicks as if it’s hard to do?

I said I make songs for me, leave the studio

And go and fuck the bitch who belongs to who makin’ songs for you

She said I’m feelin’ your whole swagger and flow, can we hook up?

I said, umm, you just used the word swagger, so no, she said


[Verse 3: Eminem]

We been ridin’ around in this hatchback ’til I’m fucking hunchback

Where the fuck’s this party at slutbag cunt? Cut what act?

Think it’s an act? Fuck that, I’m tryna shag scuz

Better find this love shack or somewhere to fuck at, ah, don’t touch that

You fat dyke, I’m tryna hear some Bagpipes from Baghdad

Don’t act like you don’t like ’em, them accents, I rap tight

And I’m a torture ’til we find this place, yeah that’s right

Thought it was just past this light, just past Van Dyke

Better hit that map light, read them directions, oh yeah

You can’t read and you can’t write, told me that last night

She took my CD out the deck, snapped in half like

Relapse sucked, I snapped, hit the gas like

Blew through the light, spun out, hit a patch of black ice

Forgot we had a trailer hitched to the back, we jackknifed

Bitch flew out of the car, I laughed like, she deserved it

She didn’t think I’d act like that in person

(Royce, Marshall just crashed right in front of the club!)

[Verse 4: Royce Da 5’9″]

Tell him I’ll be there in a minute

I’m tryna break up this cat fight between my mistress and damn wife

Then a chick wanted a hug, she was phat

So I gave her dat then I tell her to scat, I’m not mean, I’m cute

On my way to the front door, taking the scenic route

To avoid this chick with a lace front lookin’ like Venus and Serena’s hooves

I’m just sayin’, those chicks got horse asses, they been attractive

Hope when they see me they don’t slap me with they tennis rackets

My mind drifted, back to this shit

I seen my wife, push her down, step over her body and smack the mistress

Police outside, I turn and pass the gat to Vishis

Then I step out and see my evil twin, he gives me evil grin

He mugs the mistress, turns around and gives the misses hugs and kisses

Looks at me twisted, like Nickel “Yeah, watch this shit”

He smacks the dentures outta the mouth of the fat bitch he rode with

And Looks back to mention, “Royce, it’s good to be back to business”


Bad Meets Evil Lighters

[Bruno Mars:]

This one’s for you and me, living out our dreams

We’re all right where we should be

With my arms out wide I open my eyes

And now all I wanna see

Is a sky full of lighters

A sky full of lighters


By the time you hear this I will have already spiraled up

I would never do nothing to let you cowards fuck my world up

If I was you I would duck, or get struck, like lightning,

Fighters keep fighting, put your lighters up, point ’em skyward uh

Had a dream, I was king, I woke up, still king

This rap game’s nipple is mine for the milking,

‘Til nobody else even fucking feels me, ’til it kills me

I swear to God I’ll be the fucking illest in this music

There is or there ever will be, disagree?

Feel free, but from now on I’m refusing to ever give up

Only thing I ever gave up’s using no more excuses

Excuse me if my head is too big for this building

And pardon me if I’m a cocky prick but you cocks are slick

Popping shit on how you flipped your life around, crock-o-shit

Who you dicks tryna kid?

Flip “dick”, you did opposite

You stayed the same,

‘Cause “cock” backwards is still “cock” you pricks

I love it when I tell ’em shove it

‘Cause it wasn’t that, long ago when Marshall sat, flustered lacked luster

‘Cause he couldn’t cut mustard, muster up, nothing

Brain fuzzy, ’cause he’s buzzin’, woke up from that buzzin’

Now you wonder why he does it, how he does it

Wasn’t ’cause he had buzzards circlin’ around his head

Waiting for him to drop dead, was it?

Or was it ’cause them bitches wrote him off

Little hussy ass, scuzzes, fuck it, guess it doesn’t matter now, does it

What difference it make?

What it take to get it through your thick skulls

That this ain’t some bullshit

People don’t usually come back this way

From a place that was dark as I was in

Just to get to this place

Now let these words be like a switch blade to a hater’s ribcage

And let it be known that from this day forward

I wanna just say thanks ’cause your hate is what gave me the strength

So let ’em Bics raise ’cause I came with 5’9″ but I feel like I’m 6’8″!

[Bruno Mars:]

This one’s for you and me, living out our dreams

We’re all right where we should be

With my arms out wide I open my eyes

And now all I wanna see

Is a sky full of lighters

A sky full of lighters

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

By the time you hear this I’ll probably already be outtie

I advance like going from toting iron to going and buying 4 or 5 of the homies the iron man Audi

My daddy told me slow down, boy, you’re goin’ to blow it

And I ain’t gotta stop the beat a minute

To tell Shady I love him the same way that he did, Dr. Dre on the Chronic

Tell him how real he is or how high I am

Or how I would kill for him for him to know it

I cried plenty tears, my daddy got a bad back

So it’s only right that I write ’til he can march right into that post office and tell ’em to hang it up

Now his career’s Lebron’s jersey in 20 years

I’ll stop when I’m at the very top

You shitted on me on your way up

It’s ’bout to be a scary drop

‘Cause what goes up, must come down

You going down on something you don’t wanna see, like a hairy box

Every hour, happy hour now

Life is wacky now

Used to have to eat the cat to get the pussy

Now I’m just the cat’s meow, ow

Classic cow, always down for the catchweight like Pacquiao

Ya’ll are doomed

I remember when T-Pain ain’t wanna work with me

My car starts itself, parks itself and autotunes

‘Cause now I’m in the Aston

I went from having my city locked up

To getting treated like Kwame Kilpatrick

And now I’m fantastic

Compared to a weed high

And y’all niggas that’s gossipin’ like bitches on a radio and TV

See me, we fly

Y’all bugging out like Wendy Williams staring at a beehive

And how real is that

I remember signing my first deal and now I’m the second best, I can deal with that

Now Bruno can show his ass, without the MTV awards gag…

[Bruno Mars:]

You and I know what it’s like to be kicked down

Forced to fight

But tonight, we’re alright

So hold up your lights

Let it shine

‘Cause, this one’s for you and me, living out our dreams

We’re all right where we should be

With my arms out wide, I open my eyes

And now all I wanna see

Is a sky full of lighters

A sky full of lighters

Bad Meets Evil Raw

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

Everything I say be raw (Good God)

I’m hardbody, everything I say be raw

Everything I say be raw

I’m hardbody, everything I say be raw

Everything I say be raw

I’m hardbody, everything I say be raw

Everything I say be raw

Everything I say be raw

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

You can never be my nemesis

You against me is me being a fool

And you being an enemy with benefits

I don’t even consider myself deep

When I’m rollin’ with thirty niggas

Cause I’m so used to being in a syndicate

Boots on with my strap on me

You don’t know how Yeezy the season finna get

Bad and Evil, catch a body, catch your body that’s a membership

Put you on my hitlist then turn around and kill up all the snitches

Then turn around and go to church, repent

Then ask the reverend, “can I get a witness?”

I got an I.O.U on my Bible’s view

Even God knows what I’m liable to do

When I’m high bro, I represent the same significance

In hip hop as Pac and Biggie

Driving side car door, ‘cept I’m alive though

Best believe I got no problem fucking your bitch, raw

And that mean I got no condom

Panamera Porsche, factory real white

Yeah that’s me in real life

And I’ll probably be ménaging more than the back of Meek Mill bike, I’m Hollywood

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

Good God, everything about me raw

From the lyrics to the gun play

I’m hardbody, everything I say be raw

And I mean it

Everything I say be raw

Everything I say be raw

Good God, everything I say be raw

What I do, I do it one way

I’m hardbody, everything I say be raw

Everything about me raw

Everything about me raw

On top of the world

Every motherfucker wants to get a piece of your ass

Then if you take a little time off from being unstoppable

Just to regroup and relax

No one will give you the time of fucking day


I don’t get raw stuff unless they all just one of a

I’m becoming what I used to make fun of a

Smug son of a bitch, fuck it though

Going for the fucking jugular

Leave them in a puddle of blood I’mma

Kill a bunch of ‘em, cut up all the others

Bloody glove in a prison yard, dirty Arias

I’m coming for you, fuck up the world

Who doesn’t approve, here I come as a custodian

Here I come dressed, I’ll smuggle ya

Ass out wrapped up in a comforter come snuggle up with a

Another fucking nut we’ll make a triple chocolate bar

I’mma take this chubby, I’mma shove it up that nice round little bubble butt

Make it double stuffed

Pull it out one hole put it in the other one, make a peanut butter cup, bust

We can fuck on a golf cart tell me how you want it, soft, hard, or fucking rough

Like a dog park, stop at a walmart, get a couple of 50 watt bulbs with a hot tub

Fill up them buns with a hot dog and be frank these other motherfuckers ain’t even in the ball park

Then she pulled out the condom out the drawer

She must heard this is where the condoms get stored

Sign above the door to the sauna says “welcome to Sodom and Gomorrah”

Told her I got something for her, sharp and it’s pointed

And it’s head’s on swole, hold it like a samurai

She said, “Woah, look at that bulge, must have a huge ego”

I said “is it me you’re aiming that compliment toward”

She said “yes my ninja, please get to stabbing this shit”

I commenced to dropping them drawers

Threw my black belt and gauntlets all onto the floor

Zipped down my fly, whipped out my confident sword

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

Good God, everything about me raw

From the lyrics to the gun play

I’m hardbody, everything I say be raw

And I mean it

Everything I do be raw

What I do, I do it one way

I’m hardbody, everything about me raw

And I mean it

So that is why I’m better than everyone in the world

So kiss my ass and suck my dick, everyone

Bad Meets Evil Living Proof

Don’t stop

Don’t stop

[Royce Da 5′ 9″:]

Yeah, Bad and Evil is (BACK),

We ’bout to get into a tail of gunner that details the dungeon

Just as the pale moon illuminates the hail and thundering

‘O1’s the year I fell from blundering

Shady lifted his wing than I fell from under it

Now I’m free falling, my career is gone into re-calling

Regardless of who’s fault I was speed balling

God bubble wrapped me and dropped me on top of the Earth

Then Marshall double backed and got me from on top of a Hearse

I’m alive nigga

Justin T, ain’t got nothing on me, cause I done cried Mary J. Blige rivers

I realized that God’s with us

As soon as I decided to put that bottle down and pick up my Todd Bridges

The writings on the wall

Since nigga’s seen me at the baseball game with Shady and Jay-Z, suddenly everybody calls

Like I’m just checking on you, dog

While I throw up this message on the stall


When them bottles stop popping and them dollars start stopping, do what you did to get it and don’t stop

(Don’t stop) I made a promise to my momma, I’m a out-live her, how can I be a quitter when haters don’t stop

(Don’t stop) I’m living proof, nigga- it’s pretty safe to say

God giveth and God taketh away

It’s the worldwide American way

I’m living proof, nigga…


Your body language is saying your confidence is gone

Well pick ya-ass up lil’ homie, come on

You just gon’ sit there and take it, or make ’em suck it, tell ’em where to shove it

Straight up you gon’ make love to the world or you gonna fuck it?

The last time that life kicked me in the ass, I pulled down it’s pants and put a foot up it’s ass

Man, what a catas

Trophy it’d be for me to be a bitch-ass pussy

And not open a can of whoop-ass let you piss-ants whoop me

Would be the day I say I ate poop

Shit the day that I don’t straight shoot, I’ll drop out of my anti-women hate group

Say I’m a sissy faggot, record it play it back and put it on straight loop

You haters look like you ate a grapefruit

To see me climbing back on that wagon, got my swagga back, I was dragging

Hopped back on it, grab the reigns on that bastard

And came back on ’em without remorse man, man of course

I’m a one trick pony, cause I’ll be screaming on these whores till I’m hoarse


[Royce Da 5′ 9″:]

Nah I ain’t fading yet, I’d rather stay and rap

I mighta made a debt, but I find excitement in wondering what I’m a write next, so I don’t stay in debt

Me broke, you might as well cut the embryo out my momma

And play catch with the baby with AK’s with baby bayonets

I’m a get rich or I’m a die trying

That’s why it’s either kill or be killed, so call me suicide-homocide Ryan


There’s a bomb inside my head, I’m a live wire I am

On the edge teetering on it like a totter, I might get on a nut like a tire iron

I have no desire stopping so why would I drop and roll, that’s how much on fire I am

Rappers are fun and I’m the time, cause I’m just flying by ’em

And I’m laughing at ’em the entire time why am I up?

Cause tribulations I have triumphed bitch, I’m fired up

So one time for me to just let your fucking lighter light the sky up


Bad Meets Evil A Kiss

I wanna kiss, kiss, kiss [x4]

[Verse 1:]

[Royce da 5’9″:]

Nickel Nina nigga Twitter beefing, first rapper that shot a fan

Gucci’s my absolute state of mind, like Waka’s man

Chopper’s brand, getting head in the car park, new Gallardo

This bitch sucking my dick today, call it yesterday’s news tomorrow

Stretch a nigga out, I’m the new Tae-bo,

‘Bout to cross over, I’m the new IOVA

‘Bout to saves a couple of these bitches, that’s right, I’m the new Bible

You? You 5.0, me? I’m all grounded to punishments, but I’m too fly though

Y’all niggas be whinin’, I should call you Moscato


Look down at the floorboard

Looks like someone left a pair of stiletto shoes in my Tahoe

Never know just what type of a ho inside of my ride I may let

Last night went to 5AM, and she ain’t even recover from last Friday yet

Hos all over the ride like it’s an ice cream truck, I can see why they fret

I already ran over two hos and I ain’t get out the fucking drive way yet

Soon as I open the door, you try to resist, what for?

Get in girl, don’t front shorty you’re,

Fightin’ an unwinnable war

It’s useless like tits on a boar or little tits on a whore

Got ’em acting like spoiled brats; kickin’ and screamin’ like little kids

Throwing fits on the floor

Get in the whip but you ain’t turning, this frog into a prince

Why you tryna keep convincing me for?


I wanna kiss, kiss, kiss (No you don’t)

I wanna kiss, kiss, kiss (Not from me)

I wanna kiss, kiss, kiss (Not on the lips are you crazy? Maybe the cheek but that’s all you gon’ get from me)

[Verse 2:]


Now you in my whip just long as you understand that I can’t be whipped

You say companionship, I say abandon ship, I’m a gigolo so you know

I’m always on the go, I ain’t got no time to slow down for no relationshiT

Drop the “P” and add a “T”, yeah, you can get mad at me all you want

But I’m ghost before you can even say boo, hun, let alone call me one!

A one-night stand is all he wants, with a female fan, yeah, one like Stan

And he’s so about a one-night stand his bedroom has two lamps and only one nightstand

Get the hint? Ooh yeah boo, ew! I ain’t finna argue

But why do you think they call it boo?

Yeah, cause the sound of it s’posed to scare you!

[Royce da 5’9″:]

Oh ho, we can share you, in the back of the McLaren

I don’t give a fuck what your name is, we gon’ call you “Hot” and “Bi”

Hope you bi, in the mean time your name is Sharon

Slow the flow down so I can what?

Tell you same face I make when I’m shooting the guns the same face that I make when I fuck!

Feel the back of my hand on your neck pressing your face against the sheets it’s insane

You vin change, cause I’m outta this world girl I got that Milky Way dick vein

I’m at an all-time high with highness, I’m at an all-time fly with flyness

And this is exactly what they say when they bow to your highness


[Verse 3:]

[Royce da 5’9″:]

Nickel Nina nigga Twitter beefing, first rapper that I shot a fan

(Push your cheek out the car while it’s moving like Waka’s man)

Her bottom’s dark, but her top is tan, her private parts

Got her on the pole like the opposite of her papa’s plans

(Come on stripper, let’s hit the strip 180 throw in reverse and drop the trance!

I’m in a trance, now look at this bitch dance)

Looking at this tramp, like what you wearing girl, quit playing

(Yeah bitch in them scratch and sniff pants, well let me scratch ’em)

Let me sniff, yeah

What? Did I say that?

I’m on lean like Styrofoam cups and kickstands


Middle finger stuck on fuck, sniff pants

But girl you got a butt like no if and’s, so yeah what the hell, maybe,

Aw hell, Shady, he’ll tell it like it is

So tell Katy Perry he’s on her tail, he’s tailgating,

These bells are my mating call and I’m here, bell’s waiting, and tell Lady

Gaga, she can quit her job at the post office, she’s still a male lady (OH!)

Wouldn’t fuck her with her dick you heard it, the verdict’s in, he’s allergic to divas

He’d take meat cleavers to ’em him don’t give a damn how bieber do him?

What a demon, a behemoth evil just seems to be seething through him

[Royce da 5’9″:]

I like the little strip tease you doing, this evening you and me gon’ find

Three more chickadees and have a menage like Nicki

You hot like a Dickie outfit in Texas without shit under it, sweating

Suck my dick, we both gets to stepping to my logic


My God trick, my dick is as hard and thick as a yardstick

What are we gonna do? Ride around ’til we’re carsick?

I’m gonna put this shit in park like dog shit!

And you can blow me in the dark of the parking lot

Of the trailer park by the garbage

What you waiting on? Me to roll out the carpet?

The condoms are in the glove compartment, let’s start it!

Think I’m joking? What, am I sitting here

Tryna make fake farts with my armpits?

Tryna get you to spit pop through your nose?

Am I here to amuse you? Stop it

[Royce da 5’9″:]

I’m in your pocket outside of a church

The other hand reaching for the bottom of your purse

You giving me head in a boxing stance

My dick’s so big you could drop it in dirt

I’m not your man, we’re sparring partners

There’s five things you are in charge of, that’s:

Sucking a dick, sucking a dick, sucking a dick

Sucking a dick, sucking a dick


If you ain’t sucking a dick, why you sitting there

With puckered lips? That’s collagen, motherfucking bitch

What you mean how’d you, get suckered into this?

You gon’ jump into my truck and then try to get truculent?

(You should be suffering, you should be cooking

You should be buckling your seatbelt with oven mitts)

Excuse me while I’m making an ass of myself

But it’s only cause I just wanna get


[Royce da 5’9″:]

Nickel Nina nigga Twitter beefing, first rapper that shot a fan!

Bad Meets Evil All I Think About


From the moment I go to bed ’till I wake up

All day, this is all I can think about, baby (Oh, yeah)

So I go straight at opponents’ heads with this anger

Always, ‘cause this is all I can think about, baby (Oh, yeah)

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

The chopper got about fifty bullets

Ain’t no way it’s accidental when I spill ’em on you

I’m the realist in the biz, how you livin’?

Cause you can get it how you live

And while you livid, I’m a say my pull out game is so real

I still get rid of kids, now that’s ill

The top of your head can fly of the top of convertibles

Ain’t gon’ really take no time to come through and murder you

I don’t fake mine, I do this the fair way

Snitches get stitches, blown away and left on display

Hung by the grapevine, I just kicked a chair away

Let me be the first to tell you that you lookin’ at a superstar

My microphone and AK-47, that’s my new guitar

I don’t belong to you and I don’t care who you are

Yeah, you sold a couple records, got a couple joints

Got a few Jordans, three, four pairs of Louboutins

That’s besides the point like a shootin’ guard

Nigga, I’m a rockstar


With whoopin’ cough

(I am) sick, George Clooney wit’ a Uzi

What kind of a movie star

Would hop out a movin’ car just to prove he’s hard?

“Fuck you doin’, you retard?”

Should be put in a cast as soon as we start shootin’, dog

You swear I knew where the Roofies are

The way I drug a bitch through the yard

Stuffed little Suzie in cardboard after wrappin’ her nude and newly scarred

Body in waterproof tarp covered in roofin’ tar

So what you so blunt for?

Did you fuckin’ fall off, chump? Or did you jump?

Or did you just become more

Been into a funk, I just become morbid

And more self-absorbed in my own world, everyone orbits

Pen at the table, I don’t know when I’ll be able to stop

Told you from the gate

One thought it generally takes and I’m off to the races

Wait, mentally stable, hold your fuckin’ horses

There’s nothin’ more disgustin’ an animal

I just got done snortin’ the fuckin’ bathroom soap

And the tannin’ lotion

To unwarp this mind you gon’ need some sort of an antidote

There’s not a pill for bananas though

It’s unfortunate, you got delusions of grandeur though

Actin’ like you’re Michelangelo with a fuckin’ cordless

I think I’m Shredder, so you better better crawl back in your shell

Or run ‘fore you get injured

A fuckin’ Ninja Turtle wouldn’t come toward us

Two joint forces, of course this is what blunt force is

Cause we’d smoke you on any joint

Bad and evil’s back, bitch

You might experience some shortness of breath

As you sit with your lungs punctured

Hear their motherfuckin’ tears come pourin’

If I tell you once more, then you’re done for

You’re going to have to learn

How to fuckin’ hear from a ruptured eardrum

Forrest, am I clear? You Gump, you’re as dumb as a stump

To think we’d come with a trump shortage

Bass in your face, bitch

Chuck Norris’ nunchucks morph into guns, swords

This is what blood sport is

The goriest, glorious, notorious bigamous, shogun warriors

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

God damn, the Slaughter boy general

Once I slaughter it, you couldn’t un-slaughter it

Once I order a hit, you couldn’t un-order it

Hit’s an order, this the consortium


From the moment I go to bed ’till I wake up

All day, this is all I can think about, baby (Oh, yeah)

So orchestrated, opponent’s heads with this anger

Always, ‘cause this is all I can think about, baby (Oh, yeah)


If I don’t got no more drama, bitch, I’m a fish outta water bottle

After all these guys I slaughter

Applause is gettin’ louder, how the fuck did this happen?

I never rapped for bitches, how’s it my audience now is broader?

Devil without a cause, rebel without a pause

I am a kaze without the kami

You wouldn’t be a G if it cost me a thousand dollars

Infrared in my pencil lead

But always keep an extra one stocked though

In the back pocket and both of ’em locked

And they’re loaded, like cocked twin Glocks that I’m holdin’

You better pause when you see these two dots on your colon

Fuckin’ punks, you wait, just got to rockin’ and rollin’

Cause Elvis ain’t left the buildin’ yet, I’m still a villain

You feel a threat when I step in and kill a set in a millisec

With the weapon of intellect, Hannibal Lecter with the black belt

And kung fu, protect your neck and

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

Respect the gun rule

Read in the Art of War book ’bout Sun Tzu

You realize if you defy, you probably won’t be around here long

Rapunzel (get over it)

Look, bitch, I got the bands in my pocket

And the drum roll poppin’, that’s…

That’s overkill, I keep the kill under me

I keep the chill one degree

I hit you with a hook that’ll make you see threes

You realize as soon as you beat me that you didn’t

Yeah, there’s still one of me, I’ll meat slap you

That’s a recap view, that’s normal embarrassing

And you slap me, that’s knee-slap humor, that’s hardly hilarious

So we scrap over you lying like a feline cub in a forest

Cherishing a kill from a dominant male


And I’m born with Malaria

Form of Lou Gehrigs

To the torture and terror

Of corporate America

Poor little Erica

In the morning the sheriff’s

And Law Enforcement

Will find one fourth of her buried

Under a barrier of the kitchen floorwith the stairs in an outdoor wooded area


From the moment I go to bed ’till I wake up

All day, this is all I can think about, baby (Oh, yeah)

So orchestrated, opponent’s heads with this anger

Always, ‘cause this is all I can think about, baby (Oh, yeah)

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

Back then, hoes didn’t want it

Now black Benz all hid in corners

My spectacular, vernacular

I spit like giving Ex-Lax to a Dracula

Let me translate, I’m tryna find me a bitch

And then I’m sucking on her neck while she naked

And then I’m shitting on her


And I’m getting boners from what I’m spitting

Getting blown to smithereens in a Toyota

Getting stoner, Jonas Brothers

Brothers, songs fricken rotisserie how these birds are flipping

A time bomb with a nervous ticking

Another murder victim, I flirted with them first

And burrr-stick ‘em, I burn up if I try to step up inside a Church Chicken

[scratching] wanna [scratching] making sure any who battle me crawl away

Assault and battery holiday, and just when you’re thinking that’ll be all I say

I’ll start automatically calling names and rattling off fellow rappers so pardon the analogy

But I disappear as quick as Natalie Holloway

It’s my mentality all the way, I’m normally a suicide mission to try dissin’

But one thing I never mind’s getting called Elvis all the time

In the articles that you write which is why I never reply, cause he died shitting

So-a, shitting, I’m spitting my infinite supply of written bonafide

Kidding aside, critics take my little white dick in your eyelid and fuck it

Switch subjects, moving on to the next one its, Ch- Chucky

Who wanna play with number one overall, Kid Cudi

A psycho buddy who might go nutty ‘cause he don’t like nobody

His knife’s so bloody ‘cause he just sliced somebody

Pull out the Schick Hydro and

[Royce Da 5’9″:]

In light of what he, just said, this for those who even kinda want it

Cause for this man, I would take a lighter

And light up all of my Lighter money

You can call it pyro money, “Hi Rihanna”

I mean wait, “Hi Tianna”, wait, “Hi Tatiana”, shit

I gotta problem I don’t like, it’s called fuck a model-itis

Who pussy the tightest?

That’s amazing, sit your ass down

I don’t like the pussy too tight

Get the fuck outta here and have some babies

Vocabulary still ill, the 911 still will

It’s all yellow with the black stripe, kill bill

I’m so far ahead of the skills here

I’m getting ready for my past life

I’m the real deal


Like Holyfield, think you irreplaceable? Bite it (that’s overkill)

‘Till I kill over like somebody stuffed roadkill and

Ebola in my bowl of oatmeal, you know the deal

I’m not about to sit and go through the whole spiel

Of how I’m, how I’m cold steel like a old cold snowmobile

And no feeling, it’s so jovial

But don’t be one of those who mistake me for a joke, it’s so for real

It’s what I told the phoney emcee before I broke his will

Double dribble his skull to see his soul

Told him when I snap like a photo

He’ll get exposed like a roll of film

Now here he goes again, oh

I’m so trill, I’mma get the hoes again

Like Buffalo Bill’s, bitch you didn’t put lotion in

The bucket, fuck it, beat the poor little old widow

With throat pillows, soap brillos, finished my goat milk then

Smoke billows I lit up– ah, fuck it

Bad Meets Evil Vegas

[Verse 1 – Eminem:]

Got a shitty grin, bitch show me them itty-bitty titties again

We’re in Sin City, since when did we begin to get addicted to dope

Diggity, bitch, you need to run and go get your friggidy-friends

I’m looking at your bum-stickidy-bum hun

The migidy mac’s, bigidy back

Don’t act wigidy-wack, you can get the figidy-finger, the middle

You little dizzy bitch, sit spiggidy spin

Got a 6 o’ clock craving, stop get Ciroc

It’s about to be an unbelievable night

I call it surreal, Sir Mix a Lot tape in

Hit the spot, spot my next victim up

Picky like I missed a spot shaving

Came to sip vodka, shit yeah, that little chick is hot but if she got rabies

I wouldn’t give the bitch a shot, I poke her in the rear

But I bet if I lick her, she’ll try to chase me (Haha)

What are you pit, rott, mixed oh, you just got fixed well shit then let’s lip-lock

If not then trick piss off you snobby little pig snot nose

You think you’re hot shit cause you’re in heat

Well, bitch, if you’re solar

Then I’m your polar opposite dog cause I’m colder than popsicle sticks, poppin’ shit

Talkin’ it, walkin’ it, spit rocks

Then my sick thoughts are about to lick shots

Like this shit’s hopping, and drip-dropping in chocolate-ly whip-topping

So whether you’re Hip Hop, Slipknot, Big, Pac

Kid Rock, Kris Kross, Rick Ross, you’ll dig this

If not then kick rocks in flip flops

And I produced the track

So you don’t have to ask who it is when this shit knocks (TURN UP!)

So bring clairvoyance to this bangin and I’m a keep on saying

All the shit I should be hung for, and probably killed for saying

And I probably will, but not until the day I pop a pill again

Like chopping ’til I’m dropping, still if that don’t do the job of killing Shady, then the karma will, insane him

I’m as brainy Mohammad until the Parkinson’s done eat away my brain

And made me Robin Williams crazy

Or I end up with dementia, but you rocking with a sadist

So you can say this, but if the thought is entertaining

I ain’t stopping to explain it

Oh my God, for real man, not again I’m shaking

But before I tie a rope around this nob

If they don’t like it, got a knob they can slob on until it’s-

Wait I just forgot what I was thinking…

What’s it called again? I’m blanking

Something about the balls between my legs and I think I can feel it dangling, it’s throbbing and it’s veiny

Wait I think I got it, okay bitch I got you, Robin Williams hanging

Let’s Go hang in the lobby unless you came to slob me

Come on kemosabe

It’s past time, like your favorite hobby

Cause if the way that I spit shit remains on my dick then she grab me by the nuts and tried to take my sausage as a hostage

Ain’t it obvious? Pretty much a no brainer, or should I say Cobainer?

That she’s plain addicted to my dick like Lorena Bobbit

Got a wean her off it, weiner off it like she took my fucking penis, chopped it, and stuck it up between her armpits

And she begun to swing a crumpet knife and paint the carpet, at least that’s what her train of thought is

Cause I came, saw, conquered, hit it, quit it, and made up a plane of bonkers

And I always end up giving these bitches some complex

And I don’t mean apartment

So spread your feet apart

And let me see you do some yoga stretches, splits

Now grab this Cuisinart

And make me breakfast, bitch, that’s a prerequisite

And that’s just to get in this bedroom, bitch

Walked up to that Ke$ha chick (what up?)

Said my names Booger, wanna catch a flick?

I’ll even let you pick, make her fetch a stick

Bet you if you get this old dog these new tricks

To get familiar with I’ll learn extra quick

Kick a pregnant bitch, oops, I guess the shit

Took an unexpected twist like the neck of the freaking exorcist

Bitch, I said that this mask ain’t for hockey

Hate Versace, Versace, I got Münchhausen by proxy

I’m making you sick, don’t pretend you can’t hear me

You deaf, girl, I said you was foxy

I’ll tell a bitch like Bizarre

Bitch, shut the fuck up and get in my car

And suck my fucking dick while I take a shit

And I think with my dick so come blow my mind

And it tastes like humble pie

So swallow my pride, you’re lucky just to follow my ride

If I let you run alongside the Humvee

Unless you’re Nicki, grab you by the wrist, let’s skeet

So what’s it gon’ be? Put that shit away Iggy

You gon’ blow that rape whistle on me

(Scream!) I love it

‘Fore I get lost with the gettin’ off

Like this is our exit, now let’s hit the highway and try not to get lost

‘Till we get to Las Vegas

[Bridge – Eminem:]

(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)


‘Till we get to Las Vegas

(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)


‘Till we get to Las Vegas

(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)


‘Till we get to Las Vegas

(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)


[Chorus – Eminem:]

Whatever happens here, stays here

So let’s go all the way dear

Til we get to Las Vegas

[Verse 2 – Royce da 5’9:]

Whatever happens in my room, it stays in my room like movie night like cable

Treat every women in my stable like flavors

Looking like she kryptonite and I get weak after like 7 days

In 7 nights in the days Inn it’s our Vegas

We roll in circles in packs… we the lifesavers

She got a boyfriend, I got a toy then

I’ll bring her with me when I show up to her crib waving

And I ain’t tryna be the nice neighbor

I’m so Jay Electronic, I’m cut like I’m all out of razors

And all I got is a gun left with a bayonet on it

Next ho froze and it look like I walked in to a jewelry store

With a about a million dollars with your mama

And sat down n did the ALS challenge, haaaan

I stole that adlib from French, Bad & Evil back at it again

About to get my back tatted again

About to get a pic of a backstabber with an axe in his hand

Sitting on a bike in the sand

If you ain’t been through nothing

Then that shouldn’t mean nothing to you like lice on a gram

If she current I keep her pussy purring like the pipes on a Lam

Weed got her so chinky eyed

Look like she been getting high on a flight to Japan

I keep my jewelry on while I’m fucking

Sound like I’m shaking up dice in a can

Listen, though this ain’t Christmas I make you my ex miss

If this is my passion

I learn to give those who don’t appreciate my presence

The gift of my absence

I don’t know who you been listening to

Got me fucked up like Pookie in the chicken coop

Bitch, I don’t give a two shits

Bitch, get the fuck out of my face

To make a long story short, I don’t really gotta stand there

And listen to you while you throw a silly tantrum

Even though I have an affinity for witty banter

Starting to feel like foulplay like Billy Laimbeer

Hold up, she misunderstood me

I said take parvour four

Thought I said the wraith had four doors

I knock a nigga face off

Give him the bottom of the nine like a baseball scoreboard (whatever…)

I leave the club with my tab still open

Won’t even get a cab for you and your friend

The only fear I have is of loathing

And I won’t even kick in ’till we get to Las Vegas



Bad Meets Evil Loud Noises

[Verse 1: Eminem]

Life handed me lemons

I jumped back into the public eye and squirted lemon juice in it

By now you just wish I’d fucking die but I electrify

Get electrocuted, executed by an executioner of my flow

Too quick for the human eye to detect zooming by

(Chick-chick-chick-chick-ah!) Guess who, what’s happening guys?

They told me to shit, I fell off that pot

Hopped right back up on that crapper and I

Said “fuck It” with a capital I

Look who’s back to antagonize

You don’t like it? You can eat shit, fuck off little faggot and die

You’re right back like a maggot on my dick grabbing at my,

Shit better get to the back of the line

You wanna get your shot at me what kinda crap is that battle

What kind of rapper would I be-‘fore I let another rapper think he’s hot

I’ll bury my face in his stinky twat and go alalalala!

Girl my head space is limited, ain’t even room in the back of my mind

That’s why I ain’t thinking about you, I don’t got time and I told you a thousand times

So how can I find the time to put an alkaline battery in Royce’s back

And at the same time put juice in mine?

Goddamn it! Slaughterhouse is signed!


[Verse 2: Crooked I]

I’m a – menace villain, my pen is sitting spilling, my lyrics killing

Then I let you witness shit when it hit the ceiling

The niggas willing to give the listeners the sickest feeling

Like mixing some Benadryl and penicillin

Then I’m filling the clip with a written

Can you picture my pistol drilling?

A million women and children when I’m illing

But it isn’t real, it’s a rap

On the realest of rap

How could you possibly stop the Apocalypse

When I’m atomic bombing the populous

Shock the metropolis hostile as a kid

Popping the Glock at his moms and his pops

Then he hops in his drop with his iPod rocking the Slaughterish

Documentation and lyrics I write with confidence

Write like a columnist slash novelist

I’m in this game to demolish it, establish my dominance

Over prominent rappers you popping shit ’til you opposite

I can spit ominous so spit politics now I’m Haile Selassie, Gandhi, and Pac

Of this hip hop genre, bitch!


[Verse 3: Royce da 5’9”]

Lyrically I’m a cocaine Altoid

Ability told brain it’s a no brain bout boy

Physically I’m literally a cocaine cowboy

Wait wait, did I just go almost four bars without talking about my big dick?

The other day me and your thick bitch had a great date and we ate cake

And then we walked and then she tried to jack me off but she lost

Cause she couldn’t handle my shake weight, I sweared

Irony of Ryan is I am bipolar while I’m rhyming

Standing beside a big old (big old) white bear!

Neither one of us fight fair, you are literally looking at Woody and Wesley in a movie

Where the white boy ain’t got to jump, nowhere cause I’m here

Nigga I’m on fire yeah! and I’m every bitch’s dream

One, two, I’m coming for you, I’m a big old (big old) Nightmare!

Nigga this is slaughter stepping up

I’ll pretty much slap your ass and tell you to shut the fuck up!

After that I’ll slap your ass again and tell you to shut the fuck up shutting up!

And that’s how you body a fucking beat!


[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]

I should be the one that goes slow, nah!

Get a stopwatch, clock my flow

Hit the button on top watch the drug drop

O O dot dot O, Yaowa

When I drop I go outer space

Blackout like Darth Vader’s face

Placed in a molten shower

Say something and get them proper

Mama poppa pouring out vodka

Mama Mia, Em pass me the scissors there’s visitors in the Slaughterhouse casa

Better jet boy go home, better jet boy G4 chrome,

Better jet boy Mark Sanchez, Santanio Holmes, I’m not just any old homeboy!

Sitting in a lab picking up a pad

I be spitting bad, I’m a get you mad with this gift I have

Lord duck sufferin’ succotash when the trigger blast

I’m a put your beak on your fitted hat

Where the liquor at? Sip of yak

Bad bitch and a vicious track I relididax

Sly Pro Tools to boast Joe smooth I coast to the West like where Crooked livin’ at

New York here’s a piggyback ride to the motherland

Hold on brotherman, on the other hand get down

I’m gutter fam, gun butt you with the Eagle handle Cunningham

I don’t wanna talk, I just wanna beef

I don’t want a piece, I want it all baby boy

I don’t wanna eat, I wanna feast stuff my cheeks with raw pieces of shit

You done weak, I’m the one, capiche?


[Verse 5: Joe Budden]

Uh, Insane what they call us

How you married to the game but you prolly shouldn’t have came to the altar

Every bar like propane for the sawed-off, using a hammer to forge you

Eminem, Mr. Porter, slaughter my sentiment’s imminent torture

All of you feminine marauders, that’s women at war

Men will assault you, Tommy’s and bats that resemble Lasorda

Kidnap your trembling daughter, at least a quarter

Of administering supporters, got an aura more like Sodom and Gomorrah

Normally something’s wrong with me

Blame it on the quantity of the porn I see on the pause to me

When I fix the game they’ll think shit came with a warranty

How the fuck are they gonna stop when I was born to be

Corner me, shit belong to me, two choices, you can get along with me

Or sit your faggot ass right there in dormancy

Wait, all you missing is heels to be Ru Paul

Ain’t nobody that’s real ever knew y’all

Second to none and I’m dealing with Marshall

This time I never come down, deal with the blue balls

You ain’t gotta fear me but you’ll respect me

Niggas who never met me threaten me, want to gillete me

Coming to a sword fight against a machete

Swinging spaghetti like it’s heavy some said he deserve an ESPY

In a Chevy like Andretti, put the Dezzy where his chest be