(Contribuição de Pedro Aresta - Fã de Carteirinha)

Sweet Home Trailer

Well Jimmy moved in with his mother
'cause he ain't got no place to go

And now I'm right back in the gutter
wit' a garbage bag that's full of clothes

Bus' it bus' it, 'cause, you live at home in a trailer
What the hell you gonna do?

'Cause I live at home in a trailer
Mama I'm coming home to you

[Future] Uh, break it down, uh

Well my name is Jimmy, his name is Greg Buehl
Me and him and you, we went to the same school
This ain't cool, I'm in a rage
He's tappin' my mom, we're almost the same age
On the microphone I drop bombs
Look at this car! Thanks a lot mom!
Here, Happy Birthday Rabbit
Here's a brand new car, you can have it
A 1928 Delta
This shit won't even get me to the shelter
And I can't even say I'm from Motown, 'cause I'm back in the 8-1-0 now
'Cause I live at home in a trailer
Mama I'm coming home to you


I can rip you to a shreder
Cheddar Cheese
There's not a better emcee than me
I'm B. Rabbit bitch
Sting like a bee
Float like a butterfly
What am I
So what if I
cut a guy
Did I, stttuter guy
Leave you punch drunk from lunch truck to shelter
You never felt the wrath of helter skelter
Melt cha, got the belt for the welter
Weight champ
You got in with a fake stamp
Garbage bag full of clothes
Still pullin' hoes
Rip you from head to toe
From leg to bullet hole
Next gun, pull it slow
And aim at the free world
'Fore you let it go
Instead of
"Oh, I just shot my dick head!"
And yes you do got a big head
I can't call it
Cheddar where's your wallet
You're so drunk
You can out drink the alcoholics
Make 'em say
"Damn. Cheddar's the man
He needs a can surgically removed from his hand"

Jimmy at Chin Tiki Parking Lot

Your style is generic
Mine's authentic made
I roll like a renegade
You need clinic aid
My technique's bizarre and ill
I scar and kill
You were a star until I served you like a bar and grill
As I preceed to cook and grill ya
That's all it took to kill ya
You better recognize me like I look familiar
You wanna battle?
You beat around the bush
Like you're scared to lick pussy so you eat around the tush
I need a clown to push
Someone that I can bully
Wait a minute, I don't think you understand fully
See, me without a style is like mustard without the hines
I lead the new school
You're a busta without the rhymes
I'll crush the shit out yo' lines

Lil Tic vs Rabbit

I'ma murder this man!
He the type to lose a fight wit' a dyke
they don't laugh 'cause you're whack, they laugh 'cause you're white wit' a mic
Do a laugh and stop
But when the laughter stop, when you and Everlast
Bitch ass get popped
You a whigger that invented rhymes for money
Watch Li'L Tic spit, kick, the Energeizer Bunny
Rip the Rabbit head off, toss it to Hugh Hefner
Cuz I don't play boy, now tell me who's fresha (You ARE!)
Lil' T, that's right, cop tha heat and shoot ya
I'll Punish Rabbit, Or Obselete Future
my boss loves up all tha emcee
cuz you faker than a psychic wit caller id
so that bullshit, save it for storage
'cause this is hip hop, you don't belong you're a tourist
So put ya hockey stick and baseball bat away
'cause this here Detroit, 60 Mile road thataway, thataway

Lunch Truck Frrestile Mike

I can't believe that I'm hearing all this raving and rantin'
From Vanessa, up here at the New Detroit Stamping
You need to get your food and take your ass back to work
You're dreaming if you think them corny ass raps'll work
Look at ya'll
Standing out here freezing like dumb fucks
Rapping and waiting for food off this raggedy lunch truck
Who want what
Who pumped up to get rolled up?
I spit venom in every direction
Throw something up!
Look at this fat ass ni**a
Sloppy sucka
You an ugly muthafucka
Your pops shoulda wore a rubber
Stop rhyming, keep your day job Vanessa
Next time leave that bullshit home on the dresser
Speaking of dressers, take a look at Paul the fruitcake
When you travel you probably pack panties in your suitcase
Made outta lace from Victoria's Secret
If 10 men came in a cup
You'd probably drink it

Lunch Truck Frrestile Rabbit

Okay folks
Enough with the gay jokes
Especially from a gay broke bitch yaself, eh Loc?
Your style is doo doo
You've worked here longer than me
And I get paid more than you do
Dawg, take a seat!
What's this guy standing in line for?
He ain't got money to eat!
Check this out
Yo yo
This guy cashed his whole check and bought one ho ho
Fucking homo, little maggot
You can't hack it
Paul's gay
You're a faggot
At least he admits it
Don't even risk it
This guy's starving to death
Someone get him a buscuit!
I don't know what they told you, Mike
You must have them cornrows rolled too tight
This job, you wanna quit
But you can't
You've worked at this plant so long
You're a plant!
Look at your goddamn boots
For Christ Sakes, they're starting to grow roots!
On this mic you get faded
You look like a pissed off rapper who never made it
And why you fucking with the gay guy G?
When really you're the one who's got the HIV
Man I'm done with this clown
He's soft, fuck it
I'll let home girl finish you off

Lunch Truck Frrestile Vanessa

Man I'm gettin' so sick and tired of fuckin' with this, still
They only give us 30 minutes to eat lunch and chill
My body's aching
Just to get a buck
I'm sick of eatin' this shit off this fucking lunch truck
Nasty ass food
I'm in a nasty ass mood
I shoulda called in sick
Shit, I had something to do!

Lyckety Split vs Rabbit Lyckety Splyt vs Turn

This guy's a choke-heartist
He catch a bad one
You better off shooting yourself
With Papa Doc's hand gun
Climbing up this moutain
You're weak
I'll leave you lost without a paddle
Floating ....
Shit's Creek
You ain't Detroit
I'm the D
You the new kid on the block
'Bout to get slapped back to the boondocks
Fucking nazi
Your squad ain't your type
Take some real advice
Go form a group with Vanilla Ice!
And what I tell you
You better use it
This guy's a hillbilly
This ain't Willy Nelson music
Trailer trash
I choke you 'til your last breath
And have you looking foolish
Like Cheddar Bob when he shot himself
Silly rabbit
I know why they call you that
Cuz you follow Future like
He got carrots up his ass crack
And when you acted up
That's when you got jacked up
And left stupid
Like Tina Turner when she got smacked up
I'll crack your shoulder blades
You'll get dropped so hard
That Elvis'll start turning in his grave
I don't know why they let you out in the dark
You need to take your white ass
Back across 8 Mile to the trailer park

Lyckety Split vs Rabbit Rabbit s Turn

This guy raps like his parents jerked him
He sounds like Eric Sermon
The generic version
This whole crowd looks suspicious
It's all dudes in here
Except for these bitches
So i'm a german, eh?
That's okay
You look like a fucking worm with braids
These leaders of the Free World rookies
How can 6 dicks be pussies?
You talk about shit's creek
Bitch you could be a piss creek with paddles this deep
You're still gonna sink
You're a disgrace
Yeah they call me Rabbit
This is a turtle race
He can't get wit' me spittin' this shit wickidly licking these shots ta spiggity split lickity lick (blah blah you get the point)
And I'm gonna turn around with a great smile
And walk my white ass back across 8 mile

Papa Doc Intro Battle

[Papa Doc]
You're lyrics are shit
Like when I cop a squat
Who told you you could fuck with the Mighty Papa Doc
For stepping on tha stage, i should rock ya, knock
Don't get too close or you might get shot
You need to call ya mama, and tell her come getcha
and if she knew him, she could bring ya midget pops wit 'em
I put a whole in ya head like a 12 Gauge
Looking like Kris Kross, jiggidty jump ya ass off stage
Cuz i'm a grown man son, i'll slaughter you
Make your mom wish that her fat ass aborted you!

Rabbit vs Lotto Jimmy

Ward, I think you where a little hard on the beaver
So was Eddy Haskell, Wally and Mrs Cleaver
This guy keeps screamin
He's paranoid
Quick, someone get his ass another steriod
Blah bitty blah blah blah bloo blah (you get the point)
I ain't hear i word you said
Hippity hoopla
Is that a new tank top or a new bra?
Look snoop dogg just got a fuckin' boob job
Didn't you listen to the last round, meat head?
Pay attention
You're saying the same shit that he said
Matter of fact dawg here's a pencil
Go home write some shit
Make it suspenseful
And don't come back until something dope hits you
Fuck it, you can take the mic home with you
Lookin' like a cyclone hit you
Tank top screamin'
"Lotto I don't fit you!"
You see how far them white jokes get you
Boys like
"How vanilla ice gon' diss you?"
My motto
Fuck Lotto
I'll get the 7 digits from your mother for a dollar tommorrow

Rabbit vs Lotto Lotto

I'll spit a racial slur
Honkey sue me
This shit is a horror flick
But the black guy doesn't die in this movie
Fucking wit Lotto dawg
You gotta be kidding
That makes me believe
You really don't have an interest in living
You think these ni**as gon' feel the shit you say?
I got a better chance joinin' the KKK
On some real shit tho'
I like you
That's why I didn't wanna have to be the one
You comitt suicide to
Fuck Lotto
Call me a leader
I feel bad that I gotta
Murder that dude from Leave It to Beaver
I used to like that show
Now you got me in fight back mode
But oh well
If you gotta go
Then you gotta go
I hate to do this
I would love for this shit to last
So I'll take pictures of my rear end
So you won't forget my ass
And alls well that ends ok
So I'll end this shit with a
Fuck You!
But have a nice day

Rabbit vs Pappa Doc

Now everybody from the 3-1-3
Put your motherfuckin' hands up and follow me
Everybody from the 3-1-3
Put your motherfuckin' hands up
Look, look
Now while he stands tough
Notice that this man did not have his hands up
The Free World's got you gassed up
But who's afraid of the big bad wolf?
1, 2, 3 and to the 4
1 Pac, 2 Pac, 3 Pac, 4
4 Pac, 3 Pac, 2 Pac, 1
You're Pac
He's Pac
No Pac
This guy ain't a motherfuckin' emcee
I know everything he's 'bout to say against me
I am white, I am a fuckin' bum
I do live in a trailor with my mom
My boy Future is an Uncle Tom
I do got a dumb friend named Cheddar Bob
who shoots himself in his leg with his own gun
I did get jumped by all 6 of you chumps
And Wink did fuck my girl
I'm still standin' here screamin' "Fuck the Free World!"
Don't ever try to judge me dude
You don't know what the fuck I been through
But I know something about you
You went to Cranbrook
That's a private school
What's a matter dawg you embarrased?
This guy's a gangsta?
His real name's Clarance
And Clarance lives at home with both parents
And Clarance parents have a real good marriage
This guy doesn't want to battle he's shook
'cause ain't no such things as half way crooks
He's scared to death
He's scared to look in his fuckin' yearbook
Fuck Cranbrook!
Fuck a beat
I'll go acapella
Fuck a Papa Doc
Fuck a glock
Fuck a trailer
Fuck everybody
Fuck y'all if you doubt me
I'm a piece of fuckin' white trash
I'll say it proudly
And fuck this battle I don't wanna win
I'm outtee
Here, tell these people something they don't know about me

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