Wack MCs Slaughterhouse

Rap is like a set-up, a lot of games
A lot of suckas with colorful names
I'm so-and-so, I'm this, I'm that
Huh, but they all just wick-wick-wack

[Intro: Joe Budden]
Ladies and gentlemen
With no further adieux (wick-wick)
It's your man (Joey) (wick-wi-wi-wi-wick-wick-wack)
Look (wick-wick-wick-wack)

[Verse 1: Joe Budden]
I'm the perfect one to show ya, all that slick talkin' could be over
All it's gon' take's a U-turn from the chauffeur
You test me, you just see
We mix hands with guns, that's the hood's UFC
And me? I never had gear (nah) but since last year
I swore not to cop nothin' if it wasn't cashmere
You just salty, I'm fond of the sodium
Anticipate the shots like Obama at the podium
Me and y'all are nowhere near the same pedigree (nah)
Not in layman's terms, hypothetically
Metaphorically, lyrically, not especially
Theoretically, I mean we just different genetically
They ain't name me the champion yet
So it's, ACG's Champion sweats
Homie this is just a thought (for)
The Donnie Walsh DJ's that don't wanna play the best nigga in New York, dawg