[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 n***as 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'