Won’t Back Down

You can sound the alarm, you can call out your guards
You can fence in your yard, you can hold all the cards
But I won’t back down
Oh no, I won’t back down, oh no

Cadillac Sevilles, coupe DeVilles
Brain-dead rims, yeah, stupid wheels
Girl, I’m too for real, lose your tooth-and-nail
Tryna fight it, try to deny it, stupid, you will feel
What I do, I do at will
Shootin’ from the hip, yeah, boy, I shoot to kill
Half a breath left on my deathbed
Screamin’, “F that!” – yeah, super-ill
Baby, what the deal? We can chill
Split a half a pill and a Happy Meal
Fuck a steak, slut, I’ll cut my toes off
And step on the receipt ‘fore I foot the bill
Listen, garden tool, don’t make me introduce you
To my power tool, you know the fuckin’ drill
How you douchebags feel knowin’ you’re disposable?
Summer’s Eve, Massengill
Shady’s got the mass appeal
Baby, crank the shit, ‘cause it’s your goddamn jam
You said that you want your punchlines a little more compact
Well, shorty, I’m that man
These other cats ain’t metaphorically where I’m at, man
I gave Bruce Wayne a Valium
And said, “Settle your fuckin’ ass down!
I’m ready for combat, man!”
Get it? Calm Batman, nah
Ain’t nobody who’s as bomb and as nuts
Lines are like Mom’s CAT-scans
‘Cause they fuckin’ go bananas
Honey, I applaud that ass
Swear to God, man, these broads can’t dance
Ma, show ‘em how it’s done
Spaz like a goddamn Taz, yeah

You can sound the alarm, you can call out your guards
You can fence in your yard, you can hold all the cards
But I won’t back down
Oh no, I won’t back down, oh no

Girl, shake that ass like a donkey with Parkinson’s
Make like Michael J. Fox is in your drawers
Playin’ with an etch-a-sketch
Bet you that you’ll never guess
Who’s knockin’ at your door, people hit the floors
Yeah, tonight, ladies, you gon’ get divorced
Girl, forget remorse, I’ma hit you broads
With Chris’s force like you pissed him off
Talented with the tongue, ma’fucker
You ain’t got a lick in yours
Hittin’ licks like I’m robbin’ liquor stores
Makin’ cash registers shit their drawers
Think you spit the rawest?
I’m an uncooked slab of beef layin’ on your kitchen floor
Other words, I’m off the meat rack
Bring the beat back, bring in two extension cords
I’ma measure my dick—shit, I need six inches more
Fuck, my dick’s big, bitch, need I remind you
That I don’t need the fuckin’ swine flu to be a sick pig?
You’re addicted, I’m dope
I’m the longest needle around here—need a fix, ock?
I’m the big shot—get it, dick-snots?
You’re just small pokes, little pricks
Girl, you think that other prick’s hot?
I’ll drink gasoline and eat a lit match
Before I sit back and let him get hotter
Better call the cops on him quick, fast
Shady’s right back on your bitch-ass
White trash with a half a six-pack in his hatchback
Trailer hitch attached to the back, dispatch

You can sound the alarm, you can call out your guards
You can fence in your yard, you can hold all the cards
But I won’t back down
Oh no, I won’t back down, oh no

Bitch, am I the reason that your boyfriend stopped rappin’?
Does a bird chirp? Does Lil’ Wayne slurp ‘zurp
‘Til he burps and smoke purp?
Does a word search get circles wrapped around it
Like you do when I come through?
I’d like you to remind yourself of what the fuck I can do
When I’m on the mic
Oh, you’re the kind of girl that I could take a likin’ to
Psych! I’m spikin’ you like a football
Been this way since I stood a foot tall
You’re a good catch with a shitty spouse
Got a pretty mouth and a good jaw
Give me good brain, watch the wood-grain
Don’t want no cum stain—bitch, you listenin’?
Tryin’ to turn me down, slut, I’m talkin’ to you
Turn me back up! Are you insane?!
Tryin’ to talk over me in the car
Shut the fuck up while my shit’s playin’!
I’m a shit stain on the underwear of life
What’s the saying? Where there’s thunder, there is lightning
And they say that it never strikes twice in the same place
Then how the fuck have I been hit six times
In three different locations on four separate occasions?
And you can bet your stankin’ ass
That I’ve come to smash everything in my path
Fork was in the road, took the psycho path
Poison Ivy wouldn’t have me thinkin’ rash
So hit the dance-floor, cutie, while I do my duty
On this microphone; shake your booty, shorty!
I’m the shit—why you think Proof used to call me “Doody”?

You can sound the alarm, you can call out your guards
You can fence in your yard, you can hold all the cards
But I won’t back down
Oh no, I won’t back down, oh no