Sito Ufficiale
Italiano di Eminem

Dietro le quinte dei BET Cypher + testo freestyle

Signore e Signori ecco a voi la Shady Records 2.0

Paul Rosenberg ha oggi ha tweetato il link del nuovo sito della Shady Records. Nella homepage del sito potete trovare il dietro le quinte del freestyle in cui gli artisti della Shady 2.0. ed Eminem si sono cimentati.

Sotto invece potete trovare il testo del freestyle: nonostante l'indiscussa bravura di tutti, questa volta sembra essersi distinto più degli altri non Eminem, ma bensì Royce, per il suo verso in cui fa avànce a Rihanna e la saluta. La parola “Hi RIhanna” infatti è ancora tranding topic su twitter da ieri sera; al contrario le parole “Shady 2.0.” e “MarshallMathers”  lo sono state fino a questa mattina.


Welcome to Detroit

This is the BET Shady 2.0 cypher 2011

Myself, Slaughterhouse and Yelawolf


Put these muthaf-ckas in a box and I send ‘em away

Put em in a grade lac and pop the trunk

Hey throw em in the back, jack hi, dig ‘em a grave

Put a brick inside that Xerox, when I print ‘em a page

Moving keys I cant relate, cause I live in a cage

I throw up the A, I take ‘em to school

I give em a grade

An easy E for effort

Thats WWA, white with an attitude

Alphabet soup is on my plate

All I got is Z’s they sleeping on me, I can’t get ‘em awake

I spoon feed them the sound in a room full of deceivers and clowns

who believe they making it rain cause

All they see is the clouds

And I watch from the couch of the VIP like a potato with a bunch of

meatheads like f-ck it

I just feed em a cow

Plenty of white boys you can pick from this year

But before you can pick a pepper, you better pick up your heater

Cause even Peter Piper could pick up a mic but what its like to pick a

fight with me

It’s like putting Nikes on a cheetah with a speedo or at least in my case Addidas

I’m out this bitch drinking Sprite by the 2 liter

Holla, Shady records

[Joe Budden]

Say I’m from the new school, I’ma say check ya tone and watch ya mouth

If they teaching how to dougie, I’m condoning dropping out

Forced a while you birthed and gave me up

I just perfected being hip hops foster child, now check it

I don’t blame y’all for being trash fans and copping it

The radio’s the crime scene the masses are the hostages

In my youth I throw shots, the fan would dodging it

I’m grown, I aint watching the throne, I’m sabotaging it

You see that four headed monster and the storm looms

Snipe ‘em from a distance, the scope got a long zoom

You Super Mario thugs is in the wrong room

Got a figure here you won’t get bigger if you on shrooms

Was left to me I would revive what the game be ’bout

I’da took the wine outta Amy’s house

Enough raps from you scrub cats about cocking a snub back

Wayne couldn’t teach me how to love that

But I got this shit from uptown, she my summer bunny

Both parents broke but she comes for money

Think my bread is her paper to burn so I lock her out and now she doubt

David is Stern

She so bad I make her hit the telly from a taxi and dead her in that holiday inn

Learnt that from Max B

Thats why the haters empty condo on a semi lamas

I made it right before the eyes like I was Beni hanas

Is it me, is what I’m hearing this pitiful

Airwaves the same now the stereo’s typical

My skin thick so the critics ignore

So unafraid to die you think I did it before

The boys Rodman with the trash talk

Magic walk with the black ball way I bounce off the asphalt with cat paws

Glass jaw, hoody and mask would be the ? with no passport

Body be found in the mansion in one of my trap doors

If pumps had awards ya status whore categore

Propbably that , Michael Rappaport and Kenny Lattimore

I know hip hops alive and well

If it died, you other crews wouldn’t survive the smell

[Crooked I]

I spot a victim, the plot’ll thicken when the clock is ticken

I caught em slippin, I gotta give em a shot, I hit ‘em with proper spittin

Hottest writtens and compositions, so competitions a contradiction

Somebody mentioned they got it crooked, highly fiction, we probably

different, got Gotti henchmen, opposition our body quick as Bugatti engines

I’m on a mission to get rich, the sickest lyric kickin’ diggin a dish for different spittas

We lyricists get disfigured, sip liquor

Spit like a sick mixture

Notorious Pun and L get the big picture

The poster I’ll roast ya, my mind so deadly its just like the beanie is close to a holster

It’s over control my whole coastal region like I’m supposed ta

Flow is going postal even, open season

Heart close to freezing, ruthless is easy

Approach I’m squeezing, believe me

Dopest west-coaster breathing

So most ya’ll hope I’m vegan, no pun, beefing

Rappers need to keep it trill

Give me a beat to kill too many people still eating sleeping pills

People sleeping on my ether skills

And ya’ll aint even real

You ’bout to die in this cypher before you die you should do the Jada and leave a Will


[Joeel Ortiz]


I aint a rap dude, I’m a dude who rap

Before this I was moving crack

Killers y’all would come when y’all rhyme I salute and dap

And if I blink then remove ya snaps, you aint cool you wack

With ya foolish yac’s? skinny jeans dont mean ya ass shoot

It means ya booty claps

Don’t play like Tyler Perry, this the Slaughterhouse of Pain

Float brown, tight and heavy

When it comes to sixteen’s I’m a fiend feinding a studio

Near a needle with a mean lean, probably writing bars that ?

Getting my Yaowa on, may all the Olajuwon’s be the dream team

This is an all day slaughter they feindin for us to break like Beyonce’s water

The four quarters doing all the eating and you gotta know why I made the cut, I’m Puerto Rican

Ortiz keep the fire ready

and tryna put me out’s like tryna steal a transvestite from Eddie

[Royce Da 5'9']

I’m do or die dope

And you can make the sticker sittin on the door

Of that phantom your suicide note

Hi Rihanna..

Is Nicki living with you? Let me know

So I can buy binoculars and telescopes

Hi Rihanna..

I don’t need to know you better

You tell me you love my music again, we go together

Bye Rihanna..

Now back to y’all fools

We rock out like the outside of a guitar school

Thousand dollar frames, I prefer to see the world through

Don’t ask me nothing bout Budden, I ? my girl too

You ask me why do I keep her? I say it’s cheaper too

That’s why I ride around in a rose like Wiz Khalifa do

Rappers, I’m your daddy, I tell you straight as this

You don’t kill but your father will like jaden smith

I tell ya like I tell my Spanish chick

You fly but I ain’t going down on no ?

So get your wax on like Daniel-son

I’m a have to run like De La Hoya in drag when cameras come

Point out the greatest rapper alive I red dot ‘em

Smack his girl on the butt and buy her some red bottom

Bring every deceased rapper back to see his wife

While I’m cyber sexing with Jessica Alba, via skype

I’m on my d-boy, d-bo thing

Spiritual steelo swing like cee-lo green

Get out the camera with yo B Roll bling

You know your flow is whack

We cornered the market like a walmart in a culdesac

Yeah, this what 2 million singles sold and a album that’s gold

Look like, without having to sell your soul



Lyrical, miracle, spiritual, individual criminal

Subliminal, in your swimming pool

“You ’bout to see peace destroyed

It’ll never be restored

When I unleash these beastly hoards on your CD stores

Wanna stop it, you gon need a priest and at least three swords

A license to ill from the Beastie Boys, 3 ouija boards

And a squeegee and please be warned don’t ask for the squeegees for

Or the holy water, acid rapper that’ll eat these floors

Eat a hole in the rhyme book, you see these horns?

And as for me, you ask where I’m going will he be mourned?

Is puke luke warm? Should Casey Anthony do porn?

Can that chick fit a newborn dead baby inside her freakin shoebox

with a shoehorn, smother in chloroform so she can go get her groove on?

Can she duct tape and Velcro a fetus? Joell yo,

Tell Joe I need his empty box from his old shell toe adidas

So I can put these babies in the fetal position, they’re getting elbows to

the penis

Yeah, big deal. I took some little kids big wheel

And spit in his fricken big kids meal

Quit tryna bite me and pinch, you win sit still

You just put your six inch heel through my Benz windshield?

Is it dust we bout to kick up?

Can Yelawolf fit a fifth of rum in a big cup?

Between a stick shift in his fricken pick up

And drink like a hick, redneck, hillbilly will till he gets hiccups?

Flippin the script up like Mike Vick

Get bit in his junk by a pit, yup I’m a sick pup

I’d be a horrible magician

Cause I’d f*ck that trick up

Fix ya lips up to say something fly, or zip up

A-B? Let’s C. You said you were gonna do X-Y-Z

Till you f*ck around and get dropped like an E

When you add an I-N-G

Don’t put a K in front of that though, When I MC

Cause I’m not the king of this microphone booth

It’s more like a phonebooth

Superman in this bitch, kryptonite won’t do

It gives me more power, I bump the fat boys and

Eat rat poison, and take meteor showers

Fresh outta the mental hospital and me not flossing a middle finger

While I hop in a mosh pit, will be like Nas doing gospel or R&B, you crazy?

Me pushing up daisies, that thought is impossible

Is it flashing across the news, Posdnuos was caught with a prostitute

With a huge Johnson, boobs, and a monstrous tube of lube

And a bra, some boots, some panties, and an aqua blue Mazda

Swallowing a popsicle, playing tonsil pool

So kill the rumors it ain’t happenin

I’m a rap till I’m fossil fuel”