Benzino - Better Lose Yourself lyrics

[Intro] Uh Hangmen 3 Uh Uh [Verse 1] Man, these little boys ain't built for beef Stick to rap before you get k**ed in the streets I'm calling you out, b**h, we can knuckle it up Bet a hundred, fifty grands that I'm f**ing you up Open your mouth, Em, I'll let you taste the Glock Put it all up in your face like Papa Doc Benzino, n***a, know I got shells to spit f** Obie Trice, your wife, and D12 dicks I run this, my fans let the Glock explode Never met a live n***a across 8 Mile Road You're the sixth Backstreet Boy that learned to rap And his gun had no bullets, who he trying to clap? I really thought he was gay at the Grammy Awards Elton John singing with his hand holding up yours Trying to tell the media that you did it all for profit We hear it on the remix you cleaning out your closet [Hook 2x] You better lose yourself went I find you Remind you what the nine do if I let it blow It only takes one shot, do not let me co*k this four Your life's opportunity come to a flatline [Verse 2] Second verse, it gets worse, it gets much realer than this Eminem still on Benzino's dick Talking 'bout I'm dead broke and you must be crazy Every time you up in the Source, your label got to pay me Make me come to Detroit and put the gun to Hailie Have everybody like "Benzino going crazy" Top of the game, I'm the one running the race Got a Bentley for every little bump in your face We can meet up in the streets, we can box it out Or you're bluffing in your records just popping your mouth You used to do songs about smoking crack and dust Back when Insane Clown Posse smacked you up You a drag queen? Why you keep your hair that color? Know your mom wished she swallowed you and put on that rubber I'm here to bank, s** a dick, play your position f** apologies, hollow tips is all that I'm giving [Hook] [Verse 3] Let's get in depth for a second 'bout the life you live Every other record crying 'bout your wife and kids Better lose yourself for a couple moments or more You don't want drama or a bullet hole in your jaw Let's take it back for a minute to the Grammy Awards Backstage, Elton John had his hands in your drawers I don't care how many nails you put in my coffin Ask your baby moms why she take flights to Boston Everybody like "why you f**ing with Em?" He made three diss records, man I'm under his skin You better stick to dissing cats like Fred Durst and Britney I'm a Made Man, it's kind of hard to hit me Don't think the guns won't blow cause you signed 50 Got a whole bunch of New York n***as that's with me Keep telling me I ain't supposed to rap I thought this white boy was supposed to be the best at rap [Hook] [Benzino talking during hook] Come on man You really don't want it man I don't know who's blowing your f**ing head up But you really don't want it You think that motherf**er in the 8th grade always beat you senseless I'll f** you up for real And anybody you want to motherf**ing bring for the ride will get that too You ain't sh** in the streets man You a f**ing p**y I don't care how many times you frowned in the f**ing picture I'll f** you up for real You b**h a** motherf**er f** you talking about Mean streets of Boston? Motherf**ers will k** you n***a You're afraid to bleed n***a Alright? f**ing Obie a**, f**er a** n***a b**h a** n***a Boston n***as will f**ing rape you, you f**ing ho