Four months after Eminem and Snoop Dogg shared the stage at the Super Bowl halftime show alongside Dr. Dre, Mary J. Blige and Kendrick Lamar, the hip-hop duo joined forces once again for an ode to their hometowns, “From the D 2 the LBC.”
“Took too long to reconnect with @snoopdogg- you know we had to make a movie,” Eminem wrote on Instagram upon the track’s release.
If you need a guide to follow along with Eminem and Snoop Dogg’s “From the D 2 the LBC,” find the lyrics below:
Yeah, it’s been a minute
This probably should’ve happened a while ago
F— it, we’re here now though, let’s go
Yeah (man, what the f—?), Yo
Yo, Snoop (oh, man)
Yo, let me see, let me see them buds (I can’t even see my paper, man)
Man, that sh–‘s the size of my hand, Dogg
(That sh–‘s gon’ make me relapse, yeah) the f—?
That’s how I know that I’m in the studio with the Doggy (where?)
In Californi’ ’cause my homie from Long Beach
Always got that bomb weed, (that’s why) I feel a calm breeze (yeah)
Every time I palm trees (get it), just like that blonde bleach
I went platinum then so did my albums (yeah), Calvin’s turnin’ me into a zombie
‘Cause these buds are like the Hulk, they’re twice the size that his arm be (grr)
And that is some strong green (strong green)
Got a contact, my contact lenses are foggy
I might end up in Walgreens (yeah) pharmacy
With my arm asleep, gone off lean mixed with Dramamine
I will treat Paula Deen like a f—in’ human pinball machine (ping, ping, ping)
Bouncing balls off her tonsils
If y’all are seekin’ the smoke, I got all the weed
I am a walking motherf—in’ marijuana leaf
And I’m here to stay
My reign’s so definite, my longevity needs a hearing aid (what?)
Still wearing Hanes T-shirts, I done bodied some features with legendary names (yeah)
Was there when Dre turned The Chronic to monetary gain (woo)
‘Cause dope is addictive, just like they call it marijuana
‘Cause like marriage, you wanna marry Jane
It’s like you and Spider-Man feel the very same (yeah)
My adversaries came, but these little degenerates are my lineage (yeah)
And when it come to pockets, weren’t many
If any as, skinny as mine, bitch, I was penniless
Now I’m plenty rich, and this sh– don’t make any sense (yeah)
I was in the motherf—in’ pinch like a t–ty twist
Now I’m sitting as pretty as each penny is
While I’m penning this in the lab on you guinea pigs
I ain’t finna fool ’em, and in fact, give me the semi (woo)
And when I pull the big guns out that trigger
Pull it until the motherf—in’ sh– runs out of bullets
Somebody better call a ambulance (woo)
You live, it’ll be miraculous
I got more hits than a contract killer
Like the caterpillars that don’t got antennas (what?)
Other words, I don’t got no goddamn fillers (woo)
Mount Westmore, you did not plan for this (nah)
From Detroit all the way to Los Angeles (haha, yeah)
Put your doobies high if you reside in 213
Let’s see that blunt raised (brr)
Whether you Eastside or Westside of the 313
Let’s see them guns blaze (brr, brr, brr)
Make money moves like The Matrix
Make more mount motivation
Roll up, more meditation
I’m watchin’ the moves you make, you might wanna stick to the basics
Military mindstate, locked in, cocked in, make sure the mission is profitable
Ain’t no mission impossib-ble
One phone call and my monsters’ll go
Dump phones, hop in a Mazda and go
F— that, y’all stay, n—a, I’m finna go
You think you slick, boy, this Crip (Crip)
You ain’t ready to take it where I’m finna go
Mafia rules, you makin’ a mockery (what?)
Me a monopoly, speak on my flow
My n—a, I’m moppin’ ’em, slept on my floor, now n—as is copyin’
N—as be opping through all of this opulence
Gave me a task, I conquer it
This ain’t the time for ponderin’
You n—as is slanderin’
This real sh–, n—as be honorin’ (on God)
You lookin’ for followers, and not watchin’ my n—as that’s followin’
N—a, f— them likes, I’m yelling like, “What? My n—as young problem”
Eastside, East up, n—a, Eminem, woke the beast up
Let y’all ride, now a n—a want it back like the lease up
Think it’s a game? You gon’ see some’
Ain’t no peace you’ll be missin’ a piece of
N—a popped off, now a sheet’s on him
Mom all mad, kids all sad, damn, my bad
Send a few coins to the coroner
Please make it sweet for ’em
N—a, I don’t hop on tracks, I leap on ’em
In the field with the cleats on ’em
Steve Job of the cannabis mob
In due time n—as know it be mine
Suge knew I’d go platinum the minute I signed
If you’re lookin’ for the facts, I’m the n—a to find
Young n—a sold crack in the middle of Pine
In the face of this crippin’
Long Beach, these seas is different
Four man with the put on
Still gettin’ bread with the n—as I put on, yeah, yeah
I put my hood on, sh– got cold, I put my hood on, yeah, yeah
Marshall and Calvin, both from the gutters like public housin’
Now we’re performin’ for hundreds of thousands
Wearin’ no makeup, but we still be clownin’, motherf—ers
Put your doobies high if you reside in 213
Let’s see that blunt raised (brr)
Whether you Eastside or Westside of the 313
Let’s see them guns blaze (brr, brr, brr)
My Detroit n—as vers’ everybody
My Long Beach n—as vers’ everybody
My Detroit n—as leave with a body
My Long Beach n—as shoot up the party (yeah, yeah)
Lyrics licensed & provided by LyricFind
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: Marshall B. III Mathers, Calvin Cordozar Jr. Broadus, Luis Resto, Cordel Broadus
