“Animals (Pt. I)” Lyrics by JID, Eminem is a latest English song in the voices of JID, Eminem. Its music too is composed by singer while brand new “Animals (Pt. I)” song lyrics are also written by JID, Eminem. This is a popular song among the people of United States of America. “Animals (Pt. I)” by JID and Eminem is a high-energy, lyrical showcase where both rappers go all out to prove they’re on another level. JID comes in sharp with wild flows and intense bars, talking about survival, confidence, and staying dangerous in a chaotic world. Eminem follows with his usual unfiltered aggression, rapid-fire rhymes, and brutal humor, flexing his skills like only he can. It’s raw, fast, and fierce.
Animals (Pt. I) Lyrics
[Intro: JID]
Phew, look
[Verse 1: JID]
Please don’t bring no scared business to me
I fear no man, no hand-holding
Banana clip a chimpanzee to rip at me
The tip ain’t cheap, the d!ck ain’t free
I ain’t no b!tch, a b!tch ain’t me, I beat up beats
I been upbeat, you been on me
You bet on me? Who better than me?
You better believe they never could be, I’m ready to eat
They better get it ready for me, I’m killing the scene
They gotta get a medical team, the gun a machine
The tongue is a gun, it come with a beam
It come in a red, it come in a green
And somebody scared ’cause nobody seen it
Get him a bed and get him a king and get a machet
ive it a swing, I’m thinking of deadly things
Sipping the red drink (Uh), red rum, red rum (Look), 151, ’87 (Uh)
Look alive lil’ n!gga, they been living a lie
I never believe the song that said they could fly
The last n!gga I seen tried it, did it and died
Get a better disguise, you ain’t figured it out
N!ggas ain’t tryna get victimized
I got a pit and a clip, finna sick the boy
Don’t nobody wanna get sent to God
The stick hit through meat like a shish kebob (Ayy, c’mon, like bro)
Take it up with the boss, man, I’m good at my job
It’s not a walk in a park ’cause I’m in a metropolis
I’m lost in a thought, but escaping the darkness
Caught the broad day, like sun and parked it
Felt the force and found my flow, the faucet
Kept the course ahead, no matter the cost
I only eat what I kill, do away with the carcass
Monster dreadlockness, similar concepts
[Break]
(A dreadlockness monster, a monster, ah)
[Verse 2: JID]
I’m a crazy man, I had to get into the game again
I’m seeing the lights, I’m looking at the lay of the land
I’m in command like I’m Jayden Daniels, breaking in
Can’t evade a vandal, n!gga, save the scandal
Service candle lit ’cause your man a b!tch
I tried to understand but I’m lacking the bandwith
A rock in a hard place, crack in a sandwich
The cards I was handed determined the gambit
It made me the man, but it turned me into Manson
Son of a madman Max, minimal chances
Shaking the hand, white man take it to taxes
Suit and a tie, not fly, ride in a backseat of a taxi
I feel like Tyrese Maxey, I’m a zone Sixer, but I’m a hell of a athlete
Doing the rap s*it, take a look at the rap sheet
N!gga’s a random, ratchet, here with a black queen
Angela Bassett, put a tab of acid on your tongue
I ain’t never taking a bump
But I can put it in a package, you give me a lump sum
Then put it in a bag in the back of a trunk
I heard thump, thump, thump, thump, banging the bass
I’m breaking the bread, the breakfast, I’m bringing the bacon
Slanging the sausage, cracking the egg over your face
I’m half-amazing, half man and half alien
Yeah, patience been paper thin, I plant a flag in every place I’m in
Pace has been immense, it’s not a race, but I been chasing it
Been unforsaken, only placing faith in the hands that turned the staff into a snake
And then a snake into a staff again
The average couldn’t start to establish the type of bag I’m in
The nappiest, East Atlanta—
Rapping erratic, righteous and ratchet ’cause that’s what’s happening
Yelling from the mountains so loud, it could start an avalanche
We in Babylon, by the way, you, brother, be babbling
You out of chances, I can’t overextend a olive branch
Fu*k the bargaining, we barging it, let the car spin
Push a Porsche with the nine, one-one like I’m Micah Parsons
When attacking a target, half a sack when they sent the blitz
It’s a rapid departure, real rappers cease to exist
Like it’s open season, soon as they seen him, it’s, “Oh, s*it”
Baow, baow, eight-one like Kobe in ’06
Head bowed, pray for ’em while you load this 45th
23, y’ain’t started, but hit Jordan with the Pippen assist
Another plot is just a twist in the script
If we beefing, let’s get into some ol’ biblical s*it
Ain’t no tweeting, see you, goodnight and then proceed with a kiss
For the dead, watch for the threads, n!ggas can’t bleed on my fit
Put to bed, now we even Steven, keep a Stephen A. Smith
And a Wess’, fu*k all that screaming s*it and beating your chest
Momma says mentality breathes into a seed of success
And I’m between it, but best believe, I ain’t perceiving no threats
With allegiance, alliance, leave me out of y’all s*it, I’m a lion, I’m lying, relax
You know the facts of the sleeping giant, align me with that
N!gga, Goliath’s a b!tch, hit with a rock and a sack
My n!gga ride with a stick, flipping a rock and—, oh, wait
Nothing too hard to predict, know s*it been hard where you at
But if I lost you, then I bring it back
[Verse 3: Eminem]
I beat up a beat like a drum machine did something to me
You don’t wanna go and bump into me, I jump into beef so comfortably
I’m not comfortable with no conflict, I’ve come for the bull
Gimme them horns, gimme that rose bush, gimme them thorns
I’m another breed, I’m a different animal
Y’all make me yawn, like a strand of wool (Ugh)
I’m intangible, but your hands are full
And your lil’ underpants are pulled all the way down to your ankles
You’re getting spanked and I’m your father, told you I’m a soldier
I just showed up in a wife-beater tank and I’ma demolish
I always said when I didn’t have a dime to my name and lived in squalor
If I had three quarters, two dimes and a nickel, I wouldn’t change for a dollar
But I signed 50 Cent and put him in my piggy bank
And I ain’t gonna apolo-gize to you for what the fu*k I do
My advice to you, get five bazookas
Some type of nuke, a knife, a Ruger, the size of two guns
‘Cause I’m spraying the Rossi like I’m N.W.A. and the Posse
Just like Yella, Ren, Dre and them taught me
Man, look at all the mayhem I’m causing
That’s prolly why I stay in the hot seat
With these magazines, I act out like Ye and his cousin
Little cocksucker, I’m spraying and busting
Your s*it sucks d!ck, stop saying it doesn’t
That’s probably the reason there’s nothing you’ve bodied of recent
I feel like I just walked in and seen you naked, ’cause you not even decent
Get ripped like my school clothing
Like a sleeping cow, I’m bulldozing
A rap god since my socks were holey
Was on that block like a soccer goalie
Ma’ could not control me, Glocks I’m toting
Lock and loading, rock and rolling, rock a Rolli
uacamole, mostaccioli, like this flow, you’re out of pocket, homie
Y’all could only hope to catch the flow, but if you know, you know
I told you hoes to slow your rolls before you go and throw your whole career up in the toilet bowl, enjoy the G.O.A.T. (G.O.A.T.)
This my house of horrors, like a brothel
I done put Ja Rule through it like a law school
Keep it a stack, like pancakes, I’m awful
So many plaques from Belgium, got a wall full
In fact, you would hate my walls, they’re all full
They call me Marshall but I’m unlawful
Is it Groundhog’s Day or déjà vu?
Won’t stop, period, post-menopausal
Go so postal that most postman’ll pause, I’ll slaughter the rhyme
These flows gonna boggle the mind
Y’all get in line, you’re talking to Einstein
Fu*k walking the line, I’m jogging it
I’m a cross between a dog and a juvenile-ish, motherfu*king childish punk
And I be popping the most wildest junk
And I’m known as the prick that’s not to fu*k wit’
Call me erectile dysfunction, my ballistic missile is launching
I’m wilding like Seven Mile and Runyon, bunch of violent gunmen
I do it like Puff do it, tell my hitter to hit him up, “Do it”
So like my middle fingers to a Tupac song, you know that I put ’em up to it
12-gauge at the age of twelve, caged-up self rage, I been raised in Hell
Like I’m Joe, Jam Master Jay and Daryl, brace yourself
It’s about to be a fu*king shootout like the OK Corral
Bounty on me like a paper towel
They want me to go on the straight and narrow
Like the same shape that they make an arrow
Never sell out for the fame and wealth
Dave Chappelle of the rap game, I’m never gonna play myself
Closest I ever came’s 8 Mile, but the fu*king pain I felt
When I lost Proof, couldn’t explain how, that devil came down
Then in one fell, he swooped, look at how foul he’s stooped
Had to throw in that towel, regroup, like Sean O’Malley, still that mouthy youth
This here the finale, try to rally troops, better round up and corral recruits
But no matter how many your tally to surround these two
You gon’ fu*k around and find out just what the fu*k we about when you see how we shoot
And I ain’t talking about how we hoop when you lay up in a motherfu*king alley, oops
It’s like a Xanadu for every Xan’ I do, what I plan to do is take a pink and a blue
Hand a few to me, I’ll brutally damage you, I could never stand to lose
I’m bananas, you motherfu*kers can’t do it sicker than I do
You couldn’t get rid of this s*it with Tamiflu
Cannibals, you little b!tch, me and JID are just like beastiality, we fu*king animals
I’m back and I’m body bagging ’em, toe-tagging ’em in the back of a Volkswagen
And dragging them hoebags and I’m throat gagging ’em
‘Til I get thrown back in the paddy wagon and back on the Prozac
And I know that, but I’m so bad with a notepad that it don’t matter
The G.O.A.T.’s back, finna go at anyone who got the gonads or cojones, yeah
Animals (Pt. I) Video
JID Songs
Animals (Pt. I) Lyrics Meaning
[Intro: JID]
[Phew, look]
Just catching his breath, about to start strong.
[Verse 1: JID]
JID is setting the tone here, letting people know he’s not someone to mess with. He doesn’t want any weak energy around him—no fear, no hesitation. He’s fearless and aggressive, not into holding hands or comforting anyone. When he talks about a “banana clip,” he’s referring to an assault rifle magazine, comparing his rage and power to something deadly and wild, like a chimp going off. He makes it clear he’s not soft, and no one can call him a punk.
He brags about how he dominates beats, how he’s always full of energy and intensity. He asks who’s better than him, and quickly answers it: nobody. He’s confident and ready to destroy any competition. He compares his flow to a gun—it’s fast, dangerous, and precise. The way he talks about the “red” and “green” beam suggests laser sights on weapons, showing how sharp and targeted his bars are.
He hints that people are scared because his skill and force are so unexpected. Then he shifts into darker thoughts—imagining deadly weapons and violent images, almost like he’s sipping on madness (red rum is “murder” spelled backwards). The 151 and ’87 lines point to strong liquor and wild behavior, maybe referencing chaos or loss of control.
JID tells people to stop pretending they’re superheroes—he’s seen people try and fail. The guy who claimed he could fly? He tried and died. He’s calling out fake bravado, fake toughness. Then he paints a picture of how he handles enemies: he’s got a pit bull, a gun, and zero mercy. People should avoid messing with him unless they want to end up hurt—or worse.
He wraps up by saying he’s not just going through life casually. He’s grinding, surviving, and pushing through darkness. Even when he’s confused or lost, he finds his rhythm. He only eats what he kills—meaning he earns everything, nothing is handed to him. The final line about “monster dreadlockness” suggests he’s a beast with a unique style—wild, powerful, and untamed.
[Break]
A play on words—monster with dreadlocks, raw power vibe.
[Verse 2: JID]
JID starts by saying he’s back in the game, fired up. He sees the bigger picture now and feels like he’s in charge, comparing himself to a college quarterback (Jayden Daniels). He’s calling out people who bring drama or fake scandals. When he says “your man a b!tch,” he’s clowning on dudes acting tough but being weak at heart.
He admits that sometimes he doesn’t understand why people act a certain way—maybe he doesn’t have the mental space (bandwidth) to deal with their nonsense. Then he drops a clever metaphor: being stuck between a rock and a hard place is like being the crack in a sandwich. The way life handed him tough situations shaped who he is—strong, but also dangerous, like Charles Manson.
He brings up the reality of being a Black man in America—talking about taxes, business suits, and how that world doesn’t feel right to him. He compares himself to Tyrese Maxey, another talented guy from his area, saying he’s a gifted athlete but chose rap instead. He brags about his unique style, his resume, and his strength.
He throws in a trippy image—putting acid on someone’s tongue—and follows with drug-dealing metaphors. JID isn’t glorifying it, but showing he knows how the streets work. He uses a breakfast metaphor to describe violence: he’s cooking up something dangerous, ready to feed it to his enemies. And then he says he’s half-amazing, half-alien—he’s just built different.
His patience is wearing thin. He says everywhere he goes, he makes his mark. He believes deeply in his purpose, trusting only in powers that can turn sticks into snakes (a biblical reference). He claims average people can’t understand the level he’s operating on.
He describes himself as a chaotic, brilliant rapper—East Atlanta’s own, mixing wild energy with truth. He shouts his truths from the mountaintops. He sees through the fake talk and says he can’t offer peace to people who don’t deserve it. If someone disrespects him, he won’t hesitate—no negotiation.
He throws in a football metaphor (Micah Parsons) to show how he hits targets hard and fast. He also says fake rappers vanish when real ones like him step in. That’s when the guns start firing—literally and metaphorically. He says he’ll go biblical if there’s beef, no online tweets, just real-world consequences.
Then he flexes again—saying his enemies can’t even bleed on his outfit because he’s too sharp and clean. He brings up Stephen A. Smith and a Wesson (a gun), mixing media and violence references. He remembers his mother’s wisdom—that mindset and energy are what grow success. And he’s right in the middle of it.
He warns others not to pull him into their drama. He’s a lion—maybe lying, maybe not—but you better not push him. He compares himself to a sleeping giant and calls Goliath weak. His team is ready to fight back hard. And if he lost you in the complexity, he’ll rewind and break it down again. Classic JID: intense, witty, and sharp.
FAQs
Q. Who has sung Animals (Pt. I) song?
A. Animals (Pt. I) song is sung by JID, Eminem.
Q. Who wrote Animals (Pt. I) lyrics?
A. Animals (Pt. I) lyrics are penned by JID, Eminem.
Q. Who has given the music of Animals (Pt. I) song?
A. Animals (Pt. I) music is composed and produced by JID, Eminem.
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