D12 - Whether or Not [Rare]

R.I.P. Big Proof and Bugz



Lyrics:



No escapin' this)



[Kon Artis- Intro]

Ha, ha, ha

Yo, yo, yo, yo-yo

D12, Kon Artis

Yo, yo



[Kon Artis]

Oh we sound like Em clones uh?

Where the fuck you think he started at homes, uh?

Skip the small talk, talkin' is a risk you take

Kick yo' face 'till yo' head go through this window and break

To the 1-9, Denaun cause the gun-line

And collect yank from every weed spot like I'm one time

I'm ain't the remorseful type, I'll drink and still drive prone on any thing at any given night

Fuck leavin' my roots, I'm still in cahoots with nincompoots who shoot up like troops in Babe Ruth

Pull up in a red hersh, with Fred Durst dressed like a nurse,

With a cold purse, screamin' the stove hurt



[Bizarre]

On my Harley Davison, I ride down Main Street

I speed with my dad's name on my ass cheek

Gimme your ones and get robbed with a broken gun

Got you doin' more dances than Puffy's son

All you groupies that wanna get took, you gotta be 12 years old with a coloring book

And anyone else who wanna get fucked, cause..

(No one's ready to deal with us)



[Eminem]

Whether you rap or you don't rap (No escapin' this)

Duck 'fo you get rushed (No escapin' this)

Get stucked fuckin' with us (No escapin' this)

Cause...

(No one's ready to deal with us)



We interrupt your little world of perfect mist

To bring you this shit that murder conserved us with

Cursin' diss, with verses so merciless these words can just fuck up your high worse than this...

I KILL for less, and dump BODIES in the muthafuckin' wilderness

I'm a wilderbeast, I conceal the peace even after I was bust if I want police

You think, just because I got caught by these cops once

I'm not gonna carry shot guns to blow your wigs back like hamburgers without buns!!

Too many damn murders I can't even count one!!

Two black guns, I don't know maybe they're Magnums?!!

I don't know what the fuck they're called, I just grabbed 'um!!

12-gauge dumped in a drug fueled rage, fuck age, I'm still goin' through my "fuck-you" stage

I'm a, "27-year-old-eleven-year-old", I'ma never grow up, bitch I ain't gon' never get old

I'll be sittin' here with a cane and a beard,

Still insane and as weird as a deaf-can'-even-hear, brain in my rear, yeah

So 'till I'm wrinkled as Robert Van Winkle, I'm a drop a damn single every goddamn week people

It's D12, June 19th, so do like me, and go buy three, with no I.D.

Kids...



[Proof]

Now why you wanna play a game with me, dangerously

The outcome's hot, once splittin' your brain in three

Proof with crooked raps, always ask them "What the fuck you lookin' at"?

And invite the hook to scrap

I gave my life to God, n***a, then I took it back

Took it black, this fuckin' gat, will leave your cookie cracked

Detroit's, derelict, arrogant, terrorist, straight on you areospit

Spit at people various people, to leave you bloody 'till your buried with

Every hit was serious, n***as wanna know how murderous The Dirty Harry is

When I'm on your front porch with guns about to bust

Cause...

(No one's ready to deal with us)



[Swift]

Ha,

When they runnin' to Swift they change directions

My shit so tight when hoes hear it they catch a yeast infection

You need protection, you gon' fear it

I snatch away yo' DNA from existance, with no spirit

Give up the carrots or see the .9

Fuckin' with mine is like barracine chewin' up swine, on Christmas

With a white trailer bitch on his arm, chillin' in Europe, havin dinner with a platime,

I attack killin', fuckin' hoes like Mack Dillin'

Stackin' obituaries higher than Michcael Jackson's cieiclin'

I leaves nobody livin', I got Satan shiverin'

Hate what I'm deliverin', you know the best then send 'em in, crack you with a fifth of gin

You got your mem, but they all wearin' skirts like them ***** from Scotland, you hoes are not grimm

Don't make me stop in with a mag, and blow yo feet up out yo Top Ten's



[Kuniva]

I'm the one they call in the "Tortia"

Smackin' your bitch and forcin' her in the back seat of an old Corcia

Kuniva's the silent type, but under the silence violent life, usually followed by sirens and lights

Get your throat cut by this tyrant's knife, from high as a kite

From get-a-way drivers drivin' right

Fuckin' with Hans will get you flipped like a baton, the deadliest bombs

Wrap around n***as like Camabons, you know I ain't nothin' to play with

Thinkin' you real like The Matrix, fuckin' with ***** drippin' off self-hatred

I'm on some live shit, rappers be on some "ready-to-die" shit

'Till I put a ice pick, right through they eyelids, fuck heaters, I'll knock you out instead of shootin'

I hit hard, break yo' fuckin' jaw like Resolution

Give up the cash and coat, or get your little brother's classroom smoked

And the substitue gaged and choked

*****...



D12, June 19th...

Get ready for it...

Trouble soon, baby...

You know it...

Tell your mama and your sister too...

Cause we fuckin' 'em...

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