[Hook: Eminem]I wanna be the best who ever did itDon't know if that goal is feasible, or it isn'tBut if it is please God, if you're listenin'Please give me the strength to crush competitionYou can't blame me for dreaming, I'm a dreamerAnd if I'm coming off brash please for give meBut, that's all I want
[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9]I just wanna be the illest MC (That's all I want)The same time being as real as can beMayhem, sickness, murder, horrorThese are the kind of words that describe my aura, D rapRass Kass Kurupt, Redman I am cut from that clothWrite a rhyme about me? You a dead manCool J, I'm Bad videoLearn the whole routine and perform it for my father's friendsWhile they smoked and drank symphonyD-O-C, inspired me to write whatWould eventually put me on airplanes like B.O.BCanibus, Wu-Tang, you know our history but hats offWhen we rap this Jack Frost we outline the track chalkThank God for the one two cadenceThank God for the lunch room tablesI'm trying to be the sickest nigga dead or aliveAnd if I happen to fall short it's been one hell of a rideChronic 1 and 2, looking up at the sky at the sunUp until the day the sun is youYou listening to Hip Hop, you in Jay's houseWayne's house, Nas' houseEm's house, our house
[Chrous: Skylar Grey]So welcome, to our houseWhere no one, comes back outYou might find, comfortIn here, in here, in here
[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]When I was a little boy I wanted to be a rapperWanted to be on the radio and snapping pictures afterAnd so I grabbed my pen and pad and scribbled chitter chatterIt started off whack but in the words of a ten year old my shit was getting phatterI hit the studio at 16, stupiderNot knowing how the booth would feel, what's (?) and two inch (?)How you ad-lib, what's a punch I ain't a boxerBut I sure enough learned the ropes, look to the mic you made a monsterNow everyday's a game of Contra, I got 99 menAn infinite amount of rounds inside this mighty fine penThis is my dream, don't fuck with it I'm telling youCause anyone can get dusted as long as production is availableI'm disgusted as a fan, look how niggas sounding damnWeak head, ya'll suck badFuck swag and your kicks from South JapanI'm gonna be the best in this professionI've been invested all my lifeSo wipe your feet before you step inOur house
[Hook (Joe Budden)](I just wanna be the illest MC) That's all I want(The same time being as real as can be)
[Verse 3: Crooked I]Yo in my house, the lights outNo utilities in the facilities feeling my life's 'boutTo wipe out, these feelings I'm feeling be killing meI pull the mic out, can't strike outCause if winning is really my enemy, I pull a nine outBlow my mind out, is the end of me really serenityMan in my house, it's rap or dieGet a piece of that apple pieLife is a Pharcyde song, and that bitch just passes bySo I, got lyrically complex, that way I could fly jetsGet my moms out the projects, with these concepts, competition can't digestAnd then I stress cause the road is rough, start feeling like shit sourThe electricity in my will power, could still powerThe twin towers, for ten hours so send cowardsThe message from Crooked I, Royce Da 5Joe Budden, Em Yaowa
[Verse 4: Eminem]In our, house we spit like six hoursThe way I feel now I could spit for six hoursStraight, only way to be great, is to dig downIf you can hear this sound in, side my mind sounds like a fucking drive-byThat's what the inside of my mind's like, looking back onMy career even, hindsights, (?) micsNever wanted that so bad thinking I would go madNomad with a notepad, go TazSpaz on these ho bags, you bother me but I never wanna show thatJust don't act like it ever does, even though you know that that will never comeA day someone blows past you who never was, someone whose as dope as youEver was, and you hope that's true causeThe competitor in you would ever let someone be better than youAnd you know that, so you don't ever hold backWhat you gonna go back, to working a regular job? Fuck thatI'm gonna go hard grab on my, gonadsTell them fuck theyselvesThey call me a wigger like Renee ZellBut I raised hell like a stay-at-home dadRap is the only thing that I was ever really, bad to the bone atGuess I'm similar to, gangrene in them, ain't grieving themHulk Smash, so much passion but no compassionIf eyes are the windows to the soul then it'sBroken glass and there's no trespassingAlright now here we goDre stamped me now I'm stamping Yelawolf be ready for the most competitive click in the world it's like Clash Of The TitansI'm releasing the cracker it's time to set it againAnd when it's said and it's all doneNone shall fuck with this squadronSo come on in, at your own riskThis is (Our House) Bitch!