Whether or Not (Freestyle) D12
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Whether or Not (Freestyle)" by D12. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Hook: Eminem]
Whether you rap or you don't rap
Duck 'fore you get rushed
Get stuck fucking with us
'Cause....
We don't give a fuck
[Verse 1: Kon Artis]
Oh, we sound like Em clones, huh?
Where the fuck you think he started at holmes, huh?
Skip the small talk, talking is a risk you take
Kick yo' face 'till yo' head go through this window and break
Break to the 1-9, Denaun cause the gun-line
And collect bank from every weed spot like I'm one time
I'm ain't the remorseful type, I'll drink and still drive prone to hit anything at any given night
Fuck leaving my roots, I'm still in cahoots with nincompoops who shoot out like troops in Beirut
Pull up in a red hearse with Fred Durst dressed like a nurse
With a coach purse screaming his throat hurts
[Verse 2: Bizarre]
On my Harley Davidson, 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 doing 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
(Yeah bitch, oh shit!)
Whether you rap or you don't rap
Duck 'fore you get rushed
Get stuck fucking with us
'Cause....
We don't give a fuck
[Verse 1: Kon Artis]
Oh, we sound like Em clones, huh?
Where the fuck you think he started at holmes, huh?
Skip the small talk, talking is a risk you take
Kick yo' face 'till yo' head go through this window and break
Break to the 1-9, Denaun cause the gun-line
And collect bank from every weed spot like I'm one time
I'm ain't the remorseful type, I'll drink and still drive prone to hit anything at any given night
Fuck leaving my roots, I'm still in cahoots with nincompoops who shoot out like troops in Beirut
Pull up in a red hearse with Fred Durst dressed like a nurse
With a coach purse screaming his throat hurts
[Verse 2: Bizarre]
On my Harley Davidson, 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 doing 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
(Yeah bitch, oh shit!)
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