Vegas (Feat. Eminem) – Bad Meets Evil – letras

[Chainsaw revving]Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha[Eminem]Got a shit-eatin’ grinBitch, show me them itty-bitty titties againWe’re in Sin CitySince when did we begin to get ‘dicted to dopeDiggity, bitch, you need to runAnd go get your frigity-friendsI’m lookin’ at your bum-stickity-bum, hunThe mickity mack’s bickity back, don’t act wickity-wackYou can get the fickity-finger; the middleYou little dizzy bitch, sit and spig-a-tee-spinGot a 6 o’clock cravin’, stop, get CirocIt’s ’bout to be an unbelievable nightI called it surreal, Sir Mix-a-Lot tape inHit the spot, spot my next victimI’m picky like I missed a spot shavin’Came to sip vodka, shitYeah, that little chick is hot but if she got rabiesI wouldn’t give the bitch a shot, I’d poke her in the rearBut I bet if I licked her, she’d try to chase me (Ha-ha)What are you: pit, rott, mixed?Or you just got fixed, well, shit, then let’s lip-lockIf not, then chicks, piss off, you snobby little pig snot noseYou think you’re hot shit cause you’re in heatWell, bitch, if you’re solar, then I’m your polar opposite, dogCause I’m colder than popsicle sticks, poppin’ shitTalkin’ it, walkin’ it, spit boxin’My sick thoughts are ’bout to lick shotsLike this shit’s hoppin’And drip-droppin’ in chocolatey whip-toppin’So whether you’re hip-hop, Slipknot, B. I. G. , PacKid Rock, Kris Kross, Rick Ross, you’ll dig thisIf not, then kick rocks in flip flopsAnd I produced the trackSo you don’t have to ask who it isWhen this shit knocks (Turn up!)So bring clairvoyance to this bangin’And I’m a keep on sayin’All the shit I should be hung forAnd probably killed for sayin’And I probably will, but not until the day I pop a pill againLike choppin’ ’til I’m droppin’Still if that don’t do the job of killin’ ShadyThen the karma willThey sayin’ I must bring it as MohammadUntil the Parkinson’s done eat away my brainAnd made me Robin Williams crazyOr I end up with dementia, but you rockin’ with a sadistHate to say this, but if the thought is entertainin’I ain’t stoppin’ till we sprayed itOh my god, for real man, not again I’m shakin’But before I tie a rope around this nobIf they don’t like it, got a knob that they can slob on untilWait, I just forgot what I was thinkin’What’s it called again? I’m blankin’The thing above the balls between my legsAnd I think I can feel it danglingIt’s throbbing and it’s veinyWait, I think I got it, okay, bitch I got youRobin Williams hangin’Go hang in the lobby unless you came to slob meCome on kemosabeIt’s past time, like your favorite hobbyCause if the way that I spit shit remains on my dickThen she grab me by the nutsAnd tried to take my sausage as a hostageAin’t it obvious? Pretty much a no brainerOr should I say Cobainer?That she’s plain addicted to my dick like Lorena BobbitGotta wean her off it, weiner off itLike she took my fucking penis, chopped itAnd stuck it up between her armpitsAnd she begun to swing a crumpet knifeAnd paint the carpet, at leastThat’s what her train of thought isCause I came, saw, conquered, hit it, quit itAnd made up a plate of bonkersAnd I always end up giving these bitches some complexAnd I don’t mean apartmentSo spread your feet apartAnd let me see you do some yoga stretches, splitsNow grab this CuisinartAnd make me breakfast, bitch, that’s a prerequisiteAnd that’s just to get in this bedroom, bitchWalked up to that Ke$ha chick (what up?)Said my name is Booger, wanna catch a flick?I’ll even let you pick, make her fetch a stickBet you if you get this old dog these new tricksTo get familiar with I’ll learn extra quickKick a pregnant bitch, oops, I guess the shitTook an unexpected twistLike the neck of the freaking exorcistCha-cha-chaBitch, I said that this mask ain’t for hockeyHate Versace, Versace, I got Münchhausen by proxyI’m making you sick, don’t pretend you can’t hear meYou deaf, girl, I said you was foxyI’ll tell a bitch like BizarreBitch, shut the fuck up and get in my carAnd suck my fucking dick while I take a shitAnd I think with my dick so come blow my mindAnd it tastes like humble pieSo swallow my pride, you’re lucky just to follow my rideIf I let you run alongside the HumveeUnless you’re Nicki, grab you by the wrist, let’s skiSo what’s it gon’ be? Put that shit away IggyYou gon’ blow that rape whistle on me(Squee!) I love it’Fore I get lost with the gettin’ offLike this is our exit, now lets hit the highwayAnd try not to get lost’Till we get to Las Vegas(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)Vegas’Till we get to Las Vegas(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)Vegas’Till we get to Las Vegas(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)Vegas’Till we get to Las Vegas(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)VegasWhatever happens here, stays hereSo let’s go all the way dearTil we get to Las Vegas[Royce da 5’9]Whatever happens in my roomIt stays in my room like movie night like cableTreat every women in my stable like flavorsLooking like she kryptonite and I get weak after like 7 daysIn 7 nights in the Days Inn, it’s Hot VegasWe roll in circles and packs, we the lifesaversShe got a boyfriend, I got a toy thenI’ll bring it with me when I show up to her crib wavingAnd I ain’t tryna meet a nice neighborI’m so Jay Electronic, I’m cut like I’m all out of razorsAnd all I got is a gun left with a bayonet on itNeck so frozen it look like I walked in a jewelry storeWith a about a million dollars with your mamaAnd sat down did an ALS challenge, haanI stole that adlib from French, Bad & Evil back at it againAbout to get my back tatted againAbout to get a pic of a backstabber with an axe in his handSitting on a bike in the sandIf you ain’t been through nothingThen that shouldn’t mean nothing to youLike likes on the GramIf she current I keep her pussyPurring like the pipes on a LambWeed got her so chinky eyedLook like she been getting high on a flight to JapanI keep my jewelry on while I’m fuckingSound like I’m shaking up dice in a canListen, though this ain’t Christmas I make you my ex missIf this is my passionI learn to give those who don’t appreciate my presenceThe gift of my absenceI don’t know who you been listening toGot me fucked up like Pookie in the chicken coopBitch, I don’t give a two shitsBitch, get the fuck out of my faceTo make a long story short, I don’t really gotta stand thereAnd listen to you while you throw a silly tantrumEven though I have an affinity for a witty banterStarting to feel like foulplay like Billy LaimbeerHold up, she misunderstood meI said saint, por favorThought I said the Wraith had four doorsI knock a nigga face offGive him the bottom of the nineLike a baseball scoreboard (whatever…)I leave the club with my tab still openWon’t even get a cab for you and your friendThe only fear I have is of loathingAnd I won’t even kick in ’till we get to Las Vegas[Eminem](Party, do it ’till tomorrow)Vegas’Till we get to Las Vegas(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)Vegas’Till we get to Las Vegas(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)Vegas’Till we get to Las Vegas(Party, do it ’till tomorrow)VegasWhatever happens here, stays hereSo let’s go all the way dearTil we get to Las Vegas