[Intro]

Oh Shit

That's what I'm saying (Gospel)

Quiet on the set (Gospel)

Hah (Gospel eh for haters)

Talk too much

Detroit full of haters ([?])

This project is the truth (Shut up, shut up Jared, shut up)

[Verse 1]

This a message from god, espionage

A lesson of hard beef, leave your chest in your yard (Pew)

Motions of mayhem, 'cause y'all rubbing off the scene the same

Like lotion for gay men

Focus is breaking, graffiti your membrane

Believing in false words, the media's insane

My pen paints, ate the paper

Tongue was [?] thanks to flavor

Woke the neighbor's behaviors of a [?]

(Fuck this in [?]) I said they [?]

The master tones of exactly wrong, my gat's chrome

Blow you like a saxophone, crack your bones

Back at home to relax my dome and my rest

Why test the almighty I.F.?

I'm for the bread with the moldy crust

The good die young son, ya' ain't old enough

Essman, Cyzer, Big Proof

We colder than the richest titty bear naked in the igloo

How you gonna battle with raps

When I got more platinum plaques in my name than Buckwheat got naps?

Slap your forehead like Ben Hill

Make many chill, it ain't know the step to P without any skill

Most of ya' female

Sayin' "Proof wouldn't be as sweet if he wasn't down with D12"

I tell you like this, check my hist'

Your respectless bastard to slit your neck and wrist (C'mon)

Em only sell cause he white?

The owner of The Source is white and they still never gave him 5 mics [What?]

[Chorus]

Ayo, comin' to a block near you, it's Dirty Dozen

Nasty like a fat slut whore with 30 husbands

When I was five, I was already fuckin'

Playin' X rated cassettes in Teddy Ruxpin

Comin' to a block near you, it's Dirty Dozen

Nasty like a fat slut whore with 30 husbands

I used to walk up and down the block cussin'

Locked at youth homes at 10 for Glock bustin'

[Interlude]

C'mon, one, two, and you don't stop

C'mon, one, two, and you won't quit

C'mon, one, two, and you don't stop

Hip-hop y'all, hip-hop, c'mon, c'mon

[Verse 2]

I ain't start D12, I never rock mics

I ain't never been an unsigned hype in my life

I ain't got a deal, I never scrap in clubs

I never be seen with a pack of thugs

And Horny Mac don't dropkick fools, these are the optic fuels of the haters

Stop and lose the gossip, nonsense, my tonsils, vibe off my rhyming

I'm in a position to shining, grinding, doing the eclipse

Me with the Oldsmobile convertible

Heard a flow and breathe fire

P higher than God, the Ali

Popping pills, stop and chill on Runyon

Young gun that ain't Japanese but I show guns

And blow one slug through your lung

Did you hear me? Listen *tapping on mic* your lung (Haha)

Hold onto your heart like Sam Foot

And son you'll witness what I stand for

Shady, Kon Artis, Kuniva, Swifty

Obie, Cyzer, Ess' and Bizzy (D12, Shady)

To all the haters and special agents

If there was no Proof, you'd have no occupation

Y'all niggas have no destination

Special agents no destination, c'mon

[Chorus]

Ayo, comin' to a block near you, it's Dirty Dozen

Nasty like a fat slut whore with 30 husbands

When I was five, I was already fuckin'

Playin' X rated cassettes in Teddy Ruxpin

Comin' to a block near you, it's Dirty Dozen

Nasty like a fat slut whore with 30 husbands

I used to walk up and down the block cussin'

Locked at youth homes at 10 for Glock bustin'