Rhyme Room (Feat. Raekwon & Killer Mike)

[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
Peace to the god, whats up?
More I’m late in the cut
Layin' in the cut with a [bad word] 
Late in the cut on the peanut butter guts
With a [bad word] but Brazilian, half to a but
Denzel coo, stand niggas stall like "woo!"
Whippin that work like "woo!"
Ric Flair "woo!", Ric Flair "woo!"
I’m penguin [bad word] goo
Sit sideways in a brand new coup
 [bad word] niggas suck [bad word] til you strangle
Therefore hatin on a real [bad word] 
Like me talkin bout air got Anna
Say [bad word] your bright but a [bad word] named Mike
 [bad word] [bad word]  yea I’m a king in Atlanta
You don’t wanna be a news story on the TV channel
Talkin bout last seen in Atlanta
 [bad word] I take your life, sleep good that night
Crack crab legs in Savannah
I’m so Tony Montana
Nose full of coke, M16, all black hammer
Put coke in the street, in a week everything jump back
Sweet sweeter than a can of Fanta
Polo polo had the flow ho
I got horses on pa00jamas
Yea, late night I might take flight
With 3 hoes like my name Santa
Yea yea, I drive a Chevy and I treat it like a Phantom
I bought a ’96 Impala and I named it MJG
‘Cause we pimp hard and we pimp hard
And a [bad word] can’t ride for free
Gone

[Verse 3: Yelawolf]
Peace to the gods
Way to hit the breaks home boy
You about to fall asleep in the car
Run a red light on me [bad word] 
I’mma pull the Chevy over and reach in the glove
Speak from the blood
Kin folk, you don’t wanna see my pen though
You don’t wanna see me unplugged
If I pull a 9 out, over night I’ll sign out
You snug as a bug in the rug
Get the buzz on drugs and chug a jug of suds til I bust the guts
Man I could make a deacon dirty when I speak
I’m murdering, I make a mean mugging cause
When I lean in the cut
Listen, this 30 ought 6 swingin' out of that window
Tires in the mud
Got the soul of an old man, I can feel the love
So call me daddy, lay my balls on the Caddy
‘Cause I drive em nuts
Don’t follow in envy if you ain’t following where
‘Cause I’m about grinding plus
These songs that I write got life like a sycamore tree
Let it grow tall get thicker more leaves
Til the boys in the Bronx are losing hair
Well let em go bald, just give em' more weave
Yela’s in the kitchen potpourri
Did I forget to mention I’m an emcee?
That I have to prove it on BET
And cyphered twice but that just might be
I know
So radioactive, had a couple of radio attempts
But I don’t wanna be radioactive anymore now
Than I wanna jump off a cliff
This I promise,
Catfish Billy, you can put Trunk Muzik in the picture frame
You ain’t gotta tell me that I made a mistake and some of that [bad word] was lame
But all I wanna do is say " [bad word] that [bad word] quot; and please accept my change
I was only tryna people please
So people please, know my name
Now back to the metaphors
It’s better for me to settle scores instead of more self-loathe
And I put tags on toes
And like I’m in the morgue and I’m giving no pedicure
Said a story now go on and set the melanol
Set sail on a pale horse with a sword
Yea me behold, in a white Caprice classic, pedal to the floor
Flying by the seat of my pants
‘Cause I need what I need
I believe that I can go achieve what I came to achieve
And I leave you and you with the new CD in your hands
Put it in, put it in, let the 808 fill that space
Any kind of high never feels this great
You can feel the taste, you can see that smell
You can touch the moon when you hear that bass
Thank God that I got this gift, [bad word] right and I won’t shut up
Let the gray hair fall down like an OG, [bad word] right and I won’t cut em
Man, I’m on my [bad word] 
Life is a trip when I’m jumpin over cracks in the road
Say what you want to about this white boy
But I know the truth and rap’s in his soul.