The Reunion

Ayo, this next song is a true story (come here, bitch!)

'Cause some things in this universe
Don't make sense, but somehow always seem to fuckin' work

Flying down I-75 'bout to hop on 696
I look over this fucking chick's tryna fix her makeup
I'm like, "Bitch, you ain't a plastic surgeon
I advise ya to put up your visor, I'm getting kinda ticked
You're blocking my side mirror," she's like "Yeah, so?"
I'm like, "So? You gon' need a stitch you keep actin' like that, ho
I look like your husband, slut? That's a rhetorical question
You talk to me like you talk to him, I'll fuck you up
In fact, get in the backseat, like the rest of my dates
No bitch rides shotgun, what taxi?"

"Stop and pick you some Maxi Pads up, is that what you actually ask me?"
Bitch reaches over and smacks me
And says I annoy the fuck outta her, get in the fucking back
Put on your slut powder, you slut, what? Shut the fuck up now
Or get your feelings hurt, worse than my last chick when
I accidentally butt dialed her, and she heard me spreading AIDS rumors about her
Turn the radio up louder, make it thump
While I bump that Relapse CD, tryna hit every bump in that cunt
Thought I snap back in that accent 'cause she kept asking me to quit callin' her cunt, I said, "I can't"

She said, "Marshall, you ain't really like that, oh-oh-oh
You're putting on a show, where's your mic at?
'Cause you're breaking my heart" (she said)
"You're breaking my heart" ('cause)
You ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh
You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at?
'Cause you're breakin' my heart (she said)
You're breakin' my heart

Uh, pull up to the club in a Porsche, not a Pinto
While Marshall's at a white trash party, I'm at drama central
I walk up in there lookin' at my phone, on Twitter, tweetin'
I'm feelin' a bunch of bitches looking at a nigga, cheesin'
I get approached by this little skeezer, she asked me
Am I the realest G? 'Cause I'm Gucci from head to feet
I said, "Yeah, I'm really is, 'cause I spit in your man's face
Like Cam did that little kid on Killin' Season"

She said, "I'm feelin' your big ego, wait, am I talkin' wrong?"
I said, "Nah, I'm a walkin' Kanye-Beyoncé song"
She said, "I'm mad at you" I said, "Why?" She said
"Why you never make songs for chicks, as if it's hard to do?"
I said, "I make songs for me, leave the studio, and go
And fuck the bitch who belong to who making songs for you"
She said, "I'm feelin' your whole swagger and flow
Can we hook up?" I said, "Hmm, you just used the word swagger, so, no!"

She said, "You ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh
You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at?
'Cause you're breakin' my heart" (she said)
"You're breakin' my heart" (heart) ('cause)
'Cause you ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh
You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at?
'Cause you're breakin' my heart (she said)
You're breakin' my heart

We been riding around in this hatchback 'til I'm fuckin' hunchback
Where the fuck's this party at, slutbag cunt? Cut what act?
Think it's an act? Fuck that, I'm tryna shag, skuzz
Better find this love shack or somewhere to fuck at
Ah, don't touch that, you fat dyke!
I'm tryna hear some "Bagpipes from Baghdad"
Don't act like you don't like 'em, them accents, I rap tight
And I'ma torture you 'til we find this place, yeah, that's right

Thought it was just past this light, and just past Van Dyke
Better hit that map light, read them directions, oh yeah
You can't read, and you can't write, you told me that last night
She took my CD out the deck, snapped it in half like
"Relapse sucked," I snapped, hit the gas like
Blew through the light, spun out, hit a patch of black ice
Forgot we had a trailer hitched to the back, we jackknifed (ah!)
Bitch flew out the car, I laughed like she deserved it
She didn't think I'd act like that in person
(Royce, Marshall, just crashed right in front of the club)

Tell him I'll be there in a minute, I'm tryna break up this catfight
Between my mistress and damn wife
Then a chick wanted a hug, she was fat, so I gave her dap
Then I tell her to scat, I'm not mean, I'm cute
On my way to the front door, takin' the scenic route
To avoid this chick with a lace front Lookin' like Venus's and Serena's hooves
I'm just sayin', them chicks got horse asses, they been attractive
Hope when they see me, they don't slap me with they tennis racquets

My mind drifted, back to this shit, I see my wife, push her down (ah!)
Step over her body, then smack the mistress (ah!)
Police outside, I turn and pass the gat to Vishis
Then I step out and see my evil twin, he gives me an evil grin (ugh)
He mugs the mistress, turns around and gives the missus hugs and kisses
Looks at me twisted, like Nickel (yeah, watch this shit)
He smacks the dentures out of the mouth of the fat bitch he rolled with
And looks back to mention (Royce, it's good to be back to business!)

They said, "You ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh
You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at?
'Cause you're breakin' our hearts" (they said)
"You're breakin' our hearts" ('cause)
'Cause you ain't really like that, oh, oh, oh
You're puttin' on a show, where's your mic at?
'Cause you're breakin' our hearts (they said)
You're breakin' our hearts (hearts)