| Turn my mic up Turn my mic up
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| (Steady on the right) Ayo,
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| Calm down n***a
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| (Steady on the left) Ayo,
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| Calm down n***a
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| (Steady on the right) Ayo,
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| Calm down n***a
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| (Steady on the left) Fuck it,
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| Blackout n***as!
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| Oh my Lord
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| Know when the cats get down
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| Sprinkle the ash, you’ll get your ass kicked, pow!
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| Frown while I shit on your crown
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| Skip town grounds will appear on the king cash cow
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| Do I make 'em say 'Wow! |
| ', strip, ow, bow
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| I sit with the pound, click, pow
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| Blow, click, click, pow, click pow
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| Stop traffic dropping them classics, flip now
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| Bitches I’m making them skip with thou
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| Art, you don’t really want that when I growl
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| Let me come (rawr, rawr, rawr) let me come and mop up the knock offs
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| When I pop off I never stop, cause
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| What we do? |
| Come through, you better lock doors (PAUSE)
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| The wolves wanna eat, be by they lockjaws
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| No need to cook up the coke, you see me chop raw
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| And if you ain’t have enough
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| What in the fat fishes of a phenomenal Fahrvergnügen
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| Fuck is going on? |
| Back with the beat and the raps is callous
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| Bang on another song, I’mma have these n***as nervous
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| And clipping they nails and dribbling in wetness
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| And nibble them like sunflower seed shell, so See these skills got my weight up heavy like three whales
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| And I shit on Ishamels ‘til the speakers fell into the weed smell
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| N***a your tree fell, see how they Twitter, Facebook, and Instagramming,
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| on email
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| Talking, I’m sick and I got them shook banging on retail until they cripple
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| See I cook like I’m slanging a weed sale
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| And I triple gram and whoop ‘em and drag 'em like females (gasp)
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| Oh see well, these n***as already know the way that I fuck shit up,
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| minus the details
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| The case is shut, your bitch remind me of my replacement but kind of an ancient
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| slut
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| Her stomach down like she was a basement fuck
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| Swell up this shit like I’m sticking sticks in their gut
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| So graciously, ungraciously, I painfully wake n***as up Ragdolling these n***as and attack them like apes in the cut
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| I’m waiting for the taking while I break n***as neck like a bracelet, fuck
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| It’s kinda like me having a case in the truck and drinking ‘til I’m blasted
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| All ratchet and racing (crunk) keeping over ‘em blacking
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| Until I’m leaving ‘em stuck
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| I got ‘em happier than a child in a park chasing a duck
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| When I’m chasing a buck it’s funny, n***as be chasing they luck
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| I be lacing them up like boots when I’m pushing they face in the mud (ahh)
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| Missiles I fling while I spit live wire, ‘til this shit circling back around
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| With more fire for me to melt the brake’s surface, and back the sound
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| While I light up shit that I toss
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| I quit worshiping Gods, look around
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| It’s certain this shit splatters click paint that’ll make ‘em scatter
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| Shameful the way I shatter, split shit apart it doesn’t matter (rip)
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| Your head up off your shoulders, bullets bigger than a boulder
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| Break ‘em and they know that it’s a classic
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| And the way it’s going you could easily get your ass kicked
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| See, me and Shady together we’re crazy
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| Like baking a bomb and a rabies cake like a pastry bitch (you're that sick?)
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| Cause I’m from Haiti, I’m suggesting you pay me, don’t make me wanna spazz
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| (lalalala)
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| Like I’m a crazy Israeli, bastards
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| While I bite the beat up put the sparker in a heater
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| I’m chopping your foot off now it’s mine and I’m putting my feet up Back to the hood and off to the whylin' I’m hoping you protect your child
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| And I been blacking out so long n***as is asking if the hook has died, naw
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| (Steady on the right) Ayo,
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| Calm down n***a
|
| (Steady on the left) Ayo,
|
| Calm down n***a
|
| (Steady on the right) Ayo,
|
| Calm down n***a
|
| (Steady on the left) Fuck it,
|
| Blackout n***as!
|
| Oh my Lord
|
| There’s a light contagiousness to this tirade
|
| It just might make you sick
|
| So irate with this my brain is just like a fucking fried egg
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| Is my mind scrambled? |
| (I'm lit) Yes, narrow minded
|
| But go through such a wide range of this emotion
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| That my rage has gotta squeeze through it sideways
|
| I just pulled up in Clive Davis’driveway
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| With his personal memoir saying he’s bi Waving a nine, a picket sign, yanking his ride, making him cry «rape» |
| then arrive naked
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| And drive straight through the gay pride parade Yippee-Ki-Yay
|
| Cause here I- wait, did the world just pee on my leg?
|
| And should I take it as a sign? |
| Maybe I’ll take em back in the times (Shady)
|
| Stuck out like a sore thumb, so I gave em the finger
|
| To take the attention away from my stinking face it was bringing
|
| Changed the whole complexion of the game, but just in case you was thinking
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| An inkling of replacing the kingpin, you’re crazy, you’re wasting your ink then
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| So if this is any indication of what you may be facing
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| You better make a distinction cause you fake imitations
|
| Are leaving a bad taste, fuck making a bad impression
|
| That’s the worst impersonation I’ve ever seen and
|
| Who raps nasally, eyes hazily, rhymes crazily
|
| But sounds like he may need some FLO, nasally speaking?
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| What kind of stupid question is that?
|
| Hey Mrs. Abraham Lincoln
|
| Other than your husband’s fucking brains that were leaking,
|
| How’d you think that play was this weekend?
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| You ain’t the real Slim Shady, sit your ass down faggot
|
| See me on a ballot? |
| I’m running for class clown
|
| Rich democrat, bitch, so I’m just a candidate
|
| To come fuck up the whole party, me and Flipmode starting a campaign
|
| To have every campus on a fucking rampage
|
| Act my goddamn age? |
| I am eight, so let’s get smashed
|
| And wake up the next day with the room trashed, covered in Band-Aids
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| Glass ashtray smashed, champagne splashed on the lampshades
|
| But this ain’t up for debate, this is undebatable
|
| Shady for president, ho, don’t make me go take it back to the days of old
|
| Where Sway and Tech radio when I was taking so much NoDoz and LSD
|
| I almost fell asleep on the wake up show
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| Fuck you telling me, fools? |
| I was living shock
|
| Raising hell up in shoes when Penelope Cruz was still developing boobs
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| Me and Bus put it down like a sick pet
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| You’re fucking with vets dawg, fucking internet bloggers
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| «I sit in front of my computer all day and comment on Everything, I’m an expert on everything, everything sucks, play the next song»
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| Guess if I hopped out your freaking laptop, you idiot prick
|
| With Biggie and kicked the living shit out of you, I’d be dead wrong
|
| Son of God I’m not soft like a wet log, force never gets clogged
|
| I’m so full of self-esteem that I sweat fog
|
| Yes, yes y’all, steady on the left, y’all
|
| Step off of it or you get stepped on soft
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| Bout as commercial as my fucking leo jet
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| Jealously’ll get you as green as a Geopet
|
| I can see that you’re visibly upset, dawg
|
| Alert, alert, girl, alert
|
| Once you went into the house of pain hearing a world of hurt so Jump around, jump, jump, get that ass shaking
|
| Jump around, jump, jump, came to hit you with a fan favorite
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| But if you too fly for coach better get them get them arms and freaking hands
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| flailing
|
| Jump like Van Halen, and pray for a damn tailwind
|
| More afraid of success than I am of failure
|
| So what does that tell ya?
|
| That on a grand scale I don’t give a fuck about nothing like Stan mailing
|
| His last piece of fan mail before he ran straight into the damn railing
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| Chill, man, chill |