If Animals (Pt. I) feels like an unfiltered freestyle, that’s because it practically is.
Dropped on July 4, 2025, as the final cut on JID’s GDLU (Preluxe) — a teaser for his upcoming God Does Like Ugly album — this six-minute beast was originally one of four tracks JID admits almost made the final record.
Instead, he let them loose for the fans who crave the raw stuff.
Per his own words on Instagram: “4 rap songs that were almost on the album and I felt I had to share!! … all these songs are a part of the GDLU so the ones on YouTube can be playlisted with these 4 (except 32 freestyle) thank you again.”
This isn’t the first time JID and Eminem have tangled on a track.
They first linked up on Fuel, a standout from The Death of Slim Shady.
Back then, their synergy felt like a surprise — now, it’s a deliberate collision.
And while Animals (Pt. I)never tries to be a hit single, that’s exactly the point.
It’s a pressure cooker of rhyme schemes, syllables and references that demand you loop it a dozen times just to catch five percent of what’s going on.
Leaving an Eminem collab off the album might sound risky. But for JID, it’s a flex: a reminder that not every verse needs to sit neatly on a tracklist. Some just need to run wild.
Animals (Pt. I) Key Lyrics Meaning and Standout Bars
If Animals (Pt. I) sounds like a lyrical demolition derby, that is because it is.
This track throws you so deep into rhyme flips, sports nods, biblical layers and classic Slim Shady jabs that even hardcore fans have to keep Genius open with a notebook on the side.
JID sets the tone with what might be the bar that sums up the whole track: “Banana clip a chimpanzee to rip at me…”
It’s the perfect snapshot of how this entire song works — a simple gun pun twisted into an animal image that ties right back to the title.
Then there’s the upbeat/beat up beats trick: “I beat up beats, I been upbeat…” — JID in his bag, turning a homonym into a brag about energy and domination.
Dig deeper and you see how wild the internal rhyme patterns really get.
JID isn’t just rapping fast — he’s shifting gears mid-bar, tapping internals, punching back out to externals, then flipping vowel sounds all over again.
Lines like “Stick hit through the meat like a shish kebab…” stand out because they make the violence almost cartoonish, but the pattern never drops.
He doesn’t just stay street with it either. He goes spiritual: “Only placing faith in the hands that turn a staff into a snake, and then a snake into a staff again…” is a direct Moses nod — classic JID, flipping Old Testament stories into a scheme about trust and betrayal.
Then there’s the David vs. Goliath shot: “Align me with that, Goliath’s a bitch, hit with a rock and a sack…” — a reminder that even giants get dropped when you aim right.
The sports bars deserve their own trophy. “Push a Porsche with the nine one one like I’m Micah Parsons…” slides the luxury car, the linebacker’s jersey, and an emergency code into one neat threat.
Then he reloads with: “Baow baow, eight one like Kobe in 06…” — Bryant’s 81-point game flipped into a bullet count.
JID’s patterns never flatline. He doesn’t just rap fast — he slows a syllable mid-bar, holds a word for tension, then hits double-time again like he’s shifting a stick shift on the freeway. It’s rap as a gear sport.
When Eminem storms in, he pulls the floorboards out from under the beat.
He opens with: “Y’all make me yawn like a strand of wool…” — the yawn/yarn flip is classic Slim Shady wordplay you’d miss if you blink.
Then he drags pop culture straight back into the gutter: “With these magazines, I act out like Ye and his cousin…” — a Kanye jab that flips old family drama into a punchline about tabloid trash.
Em does not stop there. “Put Ja Rule through it like law school…” is a callback to the early 2000s feud that torched Ja Rule’s career.
Even decades later, he’s swinging that axe just because he can. He follows with a cold shot: “Puff gon’ get it next…”
In the same breath as the Tupac flip — “Tell my hitters to hit ‘em up, do it / So like my middle fingers, you know that I put ‘em up to it…” — Eminem doubles down on the decades-old conspiracy that Puff orchestrated Pac’s murder. He does not care who catches feelings.
The Aftermath legacy lands too: “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.”
One petty money pun, one legacy brag, all done in four bars.
When you think he’s out of ammo, he flips another gear: “Back of the boat, patty wagon, Prozac…”
It’s a polyrhythmic run that feels less like a bar and more like a drum solo with vowels — the final flex that proves no one runs rhyme density quite like Shady.
Production and Sonic Layers
Christo and Anca Trio Plus One keep the instrumental restrained and twitchy.
The drums snap and the hi-hats feel glued to JID’s flow like a second metronome.
Eminem has a history of picking awkward beats, but here it clicks.
You can hear him dialling straight into that Eminem Show menace, but retooled for 2025.
This is not a beat you play to chill. It is mean on purpose. The minimal loops give the bars room to slice.
When the verse density spikes, the production backs off just enough — an aggressive dance that keeps every syllable sharpened.
Why Animals (Pt. I) Still Matters: Cultural Meaning and Legacy
In an era when chart rap is often hook-heavy and TikTok-trimmed, Animals (Pt. I) feels like a middle finger to brevity.
It’s six minutes of proof that double-time flow and surgical rhyme patterns still have an audience — an audience that wants to sit for hours with Genius lyrics open.
It’s already being framed by fans as a “passing the torch” moment.
JID, whose output on GDLU (Preluxe) cements him as one of the best technical MCs alive, doesn’t just match Em’s pace — he pushes him.
Eminem, for his part, shows he can still swing with the best when the beat is lean enough.
Whether it’s a milestone or a one-off, the track is trending across YouTube and Reddit, inspiring breakdowns, bar dissections, and debates about whether Em’s at his best when he plays mentor or executioner.
So What’s Left to Find?
Animals (Pt. I) is a maze. One listen, you’re catching the sports bars. Next, you’re picking apart the biblical flips.
Next, you’re arguing if Em’s Kanye line is a real jab or just Shady being Shady.
It’s the kind of song you never truly finish. As long as these two rap like they’ve got fangs, you’re better off just keeping it on loop, and seeing what slips out next time.
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JID Animals (Pt.1) ft. Eminem Lyrics
Intro: JID
Phew, look
Verse 1: JID
Please don’t bring no scared business to me
I fear no man, no hand-holdin’
Banana clip a chimpanzee to rip at me
The tip ain’t cheap, the dick ain’t free
I ain’t no bitch, a bitch 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 killin’ 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 machete
Give it a swing, I’m thinkin’ of deadly things
Sippin’ the red drink (Uh), red rum, red rum (Look), 151, ’87 (Uh)
Look alive lil’ nigga, they been livin’ a lie
I never believe the song that said they could fly
The last nigga I seen tried it, did it and died
Get a better disguise, you ain’t figured it out
Niggas 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 escapin’ 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
(A dreadlockness monster, a monster, ah)
Verse 2: JID
I’m a crazy man, I had to get into the game again
I’m seein’ the lights, I’m lookin’ at the lay of the land
I’m in command like I’m Jayden Daniels, breakin’ in
Can’t evade a vandal, nigga, save the scandal
Service candle lit ’cause your man a bitch
I tried to understand but I’m lackin’ 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
Shakin’ 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
Doin’ the rap shit, take a look at the rap sheet
Nigga’s a random, ratchet, here with a black queen
Angela Bassett, put a tab of acid on your tongue
I ain’t never takin’ 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, bangin’ the bass
I’m breakin’ the bread, the breakfast, I’m bringin’ the bacon
Slangin’ the sausage, crackin’ the egg over your face
I’m half-amazin’, 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 chasin’ it
Been unforsaken, only placin’ 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—
Rappin’ erratic, righteous and ratchet ’cause that’s what’s happenin’
Yellin’ from the mountains so loud, it could start an avalanche
We in Babylon, by the way, you, brother, be babblin’
You out of chances, I can’t overextend a olive branch
Fuck the bargainin’, we bargin’ it, let the car spin
Push a Porsche with the nine, one-one like I’m Micah Parsons
When attackin’ 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, shit”
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 beefin’, let’s get into some ol’ biblical shit
Ain’t no tweetin’, see you, goodnight, and then proceed with a kiss
For the dead, watch for the threads, niggas can’t bleed on my fit
Put to bed, now we even Steven, keep a Stephen A. Smith
And a Wess’, fuck all that screamin’ shit and beatin’ your chest
Momma says mentality breathes into a seed of success
And I’m between it, but best believe, I ain’t perceivin’ no threats
With allegiance, alliance, leave me out of y’all shit, I’m a lion, I’m lyin’, relax
You know the facts of the sleeping giant, align me with that
Nigga, Goliath’s a bitch, hit with a rock and a sack
My nigga ride with a stick, flippin’ a rock and—, oh, wait
Nothin’ too hard to predict, know shit 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 somethin’ 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 gettin’ 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 fuck 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 sprayin’ 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 sprayin’ and bustin’
Your shit sucks dick, stop sayin’ it doesn’t
That’s probably the reason there’s nothin’ 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 Rollie
Guacamole, 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 talkin’ to Einstein
Fuck walkin’ the line, I’m joggin’ it
I’m a cross between a dog and a juvenile-ish, motherfuckin’ childish punk
And I be poppin’ the most wildest junk
And I’m known as the prick that’s not to fuck wit’
Call me erectile dysfunction, my ballistic missile is launchin’
I’m wildin’ 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 fuckin’ 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 fuckin’ 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’ fuck around and find out just what the fuck we about when you see how we shoot
And I ain’t talkin’ about how we hoop when you lay up in a motherfuckin’ 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 motherfuckers can’t do it sicker than I do
You couldn’t get rid of this shit with Tamiflu
Cannibals, you little bitch, me and JID are just like beastiality, we fuckin’ animals
I’m back and I’m body baggin’ ’em, toe-taggin’ ’em in the back of a Volkswagen
And draggin’ them hoebags and I’m throat gaggin’ ’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
