Crack A Bottle (Made Famous by Eminem, Dr. Dre & 50 Cent) - Top Hip Hop DJs

Oh!

Ladies and gentlemen

The moment you’ve all been waiting for

In this corner, weighing 175 pounds

With a record of 17 rapes, 400 assaults, and 4 murders

The undisputed, most diabolical villain in the world

Slim Shady!

(Let's go!)

So crack a bottle, let your body waddle

Don’t act like a snobby model, you just hit the lotto

Oh-oh, oh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe

Got one ridin' shotgun and no, not one of 'em got clothes

Now, where’s the rubbers?

Who’s got the rubbers?

I noticed there’s so many of 'em

And there’s really not that many of us

And ladies love us, my posse’s kickin' up dust

It’s on 'til the break of dawn and we’re starting this party from dusk

Okay, let’s go!

Back with Andre the Giant, Mr. Elephant Tusk

Fix your musk, you’ll be just another one bit the dust

Just one of my mother’s sons who got thrown under the bus

Kiss my butt, lick fromunda cheese from under my nuts

It disgusts me to see the game the way that it looks

It’s a must, I redeem my name and haters get mushed

Bitches lust, man, they love me when I lay in the cut

Fisticuffs, the lady give her eighty-some paper cuts

Now picture us;

it’s ridiculous, you curse at the thought

'Cause when I spit the verse the shit gets worse than Worcestershire sauce

If I could fit the words, it’s picture perfect, works every time

Every verse, every line, as simple as nursery rhymes

It’s elementary, the elephants have entered the room

I venture to say we’re the center of attention, it’s true

Not to mention back with a vengeance, so hence the signal

Of the bat symbol, the platinum trio’s back on you hoes

So crack a bottle, let your body waddle

Don’t act like a snobby model, you just hit the lotto

Oh-oh, oh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe

Got one ridin' shotgun and no, not one of 'em got clothes

Now, where’s the rubbers?

Who’s got the rubbers?

I noticed there’s so many of 'em

And there’s really not that many of us

And ladies love us, my posse’s kickin' up dust

It’s on 'til the break of dawn and we’re starting this party from dusk

Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. Dre!

They see that low rider go by, they’re like, «Oh my!»

You ain’t got to tell me why you’re sick 'cause I know why

I dip through in that Six-Trey like, «Sick 'em, Dre!»

I’m an itch that they can’t scratch, they’re sick of me

But hey, what else can I say?

I love L.A.

'Cause over and above all, it’s just another day

And this one begins where the last one ends

Pick up where we left off and get smashed again

I’ll be damned, just fucked around and crashed my Benz

Drivin' 'round with a smashed front end, let’s cash that one in

Grab another one from out the stable

The Monte Carlo, El Camino, or the El Dorado?

The hell if I know, do I want leather seats or vinyl?

Decisions, decisions, garage looks like Precision Collision

Or Maaco, beats quake like Waco

Just keep the bass low, speakers away from your face though

So crack a bottle, let your body waddle

Don’t act like a snobby model, you just hit the lotto

Oh-oh, oh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe

Got one ridin' shotgun and no, not one of 'em got clothes

Now, where’s the rubbers?

Who’s got the rubbers?

I noticed there’s so many of 'em

And there’s really not that many of us

And ladies love us, my posse’s kickin' up dust

It’s on 'til the break of dawn and we’re starting this party from dusk

And I take great pleasure in introducing 50 Cent!

It’s bottle after bottle

The money ain’t a thing when you party with me

It’s what we into, it’s simple

We ball out of control like you wouldn’t believe

I’m the napalm, the bomb, the Don, I’m King Kong

Get rolled on, wrapped up, and reigned on

I’m so calm, through Vietnam, ring the alarm

Bring the Chandon, burn marijuan', do what you want

Nigga, on and on 'til the break of what?

Get the paper, man, I’m cakin', you know I don’t give a fuck

I spend it like it don’t mean nothin'

Blow it like it’s supposed to be blown, motherfucker, I’m grown

I stunt, I style, I flash the shit (Uh huh)

I gets what the fuck I want, so what I trick?

(Yeah)

Fat-ass Birkin bags, some classy shit (Haha)

Jimmy Choo shoes;

I say, «Move,» a bitch move

So crack a bottle, let your body waddle

Don’t act like a snobby model, you just hit the lotto

Oh-oh, oh-oh, bitches hoppin' in my Tahoe

Got one ridin' shotgun and no, not one of 'em got clothes

Now, where’s the rubbers?

Who’s got the rubbers?

I noticed there’s so many of 'em

And there’s really not that many of us

And ladies love us, my posse’s kickin' up dust

It’s on 'til the break of dawn and we’re starting this party from dusk