Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Baby, artist - Eminem. Album song The Marshall Mathers LP2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Aftermath
Song language: English
Baby |
One thousand different houses and Münchhausen |
I’mma make you wanna punch out some-fucking-one |
«Ouch!"What the fuck’d you hit me for? |
Scream «life"as I punch counter and bunches out of anger |
I once encountered a stranger |
In a dumb gown, black hood |
With a scythe |
Shit I laughed in his face spit |
Bitch gave me an extra life, like «Take this!» |
Now get your ass back in that game, bitch |
Don’t take shit for granted |
And don’t take shit, give it! |
Only bull you should take is by the horns |
A mixture of Whitey Ford and Mighty Thor |
I everlast, pen is mightier than sword |
Finish writing then record |
Replenish, keep writing more |
Nothing’s riding on it but your pride is all you’re fighting for |
So you fight, scratch, you claw |
Back’s to wall |
No one was there to catch you fall |
You pick yourself back up, you dust your jacket off |
You grab your balls, like they’re gargantuan and |
Ask yourself how fucking bad you want it |
Pull out your pass for whooping ass and flash it on 'em |
Nobody’s gonna back you in the corner |
You’re a hornet |
No one’s more ignorant |
Than you fuckin' four in the morning |
You’re at the laboratory, storming |
Like there’s nothing that’s more important |
MC’s you better consider this a formal warning |
You’re in for it |
Girl, what would you do if I said your body was off the chain |
And I told you I smile every single time I saw your face? |
I ain’t finished, bitch |
I meant in half, oil the blades |
Nobody wants to play |
They say I’m a spoiled little baby |
But |
Nobody puts baby in the corner |
I’m only tryna warn ya |
'Cause that baby gets mad |
And gets to throwing a tantrum |
He’ll fucking flip on ya |
'Cause nobody puts baby in the corner |
I’m only tryna warn ya |
'Cause that baby gets mad |
And gets to throwing a tantrum |
He’ll fucking flip on ya |
What goes through an addict’s brain? |
Besides static pain and Big Daddy Kane |
Breakbeats and words |
An erratic train of thought |
Like splatter paint |
Scatter-brained |
Yeah maybe that explains |
Why you’re back but don’t rap the same |
And you’re looking way thinner |
'Cause your hunger got you looking like |
They took away dinner (chooka) |
«Sugar Ray"Leonard wouldn’t sugar-coat a fucking booger though |
Just to wipe that bitch on a hooker’s coat |
When you say you’re a chooka what chooka what |
Now fling that bitch from your fingertips |
Hope it lands on another rap singer’s lips |
Who can’t think of shit |
Anything of wit, that’s interesting to spit |
Who’s king of this fucking English Lit? |
Let your middle fingers flip on each hand |
While extending this shit |
How low can you go? |
Lower than Chuck D ho |
Hear the bassiness in my voice? |
Rocky’s back, where’s my Adrian? |
Nobody’s crazy as Shady in an eighty million mile radius |
I’m what Tom Brady is to the patriots to rap |
Not a man, I’m a weapon |
Who just happened to be a rapper |
Who just happen to be on the crapper |
When it happened I had an epiphany |
In the bathroom, I’d never be the same after |
Now I’m back with an appe-tite |
For destruction, the fucking recipe for disaster |
So let’s eat 'cause I’m famished |
Every deed is a dastardly one |
Evilish bastard, even you askin' for me to be po-lite |
To people’s like me havin' my teeth pulled |
Nobody puts baby in the corner |
I’m only tryna warn ya |
'Cause that baby gets mad |
And gets to throwing a tantrum |
He’ll fucking flip on ya |
'Cause nobody puts baby in the corner |
I’m only tryna warn ya |
'Cause that baby gets mad |
And gets to throwing a tantrum |
He’ll fucking flip on ya |
So step inside a dimension |
The demented side of a mind |
That’s like an inside of an engine |
While I multiply your undivided attention |
But be reminded: if I didn’t mention |
I lose my mind and my temper |
You’ll be the first one |
Who finds him offensive |
Got him climbing the fences |
Lost some time to addiction |
But look up rhyme in the dictionary |
I’m in the picture |
Eminem is the synonym for it |
I’m an enigma |
Fuck it, let’s get to the meat balls |
I’m gonna skip the veg and potatoes |
Edumacator they are |
Shit legends are made of |
Spit treacherous data |
Shit that you would say to your worst enemy |
This wretched is |
What you get when you mix Treach with a Jada |
Then combine 'em with Method Man and Redman |
With methamphetamines in his left hand |
And in his right there’s a sledge-hammer |
In pajamas, standing in front of a webcam |
Beating himself in the head, 'til Russell lets him off Def Jam |
Maybe I need my head examed |
Hannibal Lecter with a dead lamb |
Hanging from his ceiling dripping with a bed pan |
I need meds! |
Swear to God 'cause if I go off the edge |
T.I. |
ain’t talking me off a ledge man |
Heart throb at a fart, ah nah |
More like a smart slob, part blob |
That’ll stab you with a sharp object |
To the heart and leave claw marks |
All over the Wal-Mart walls |
Little baby with large balls |
Fuck mud slinging, I’m blood flinging |
There’s nothing on this fucking Earth better than being |
The king of the playground |
I hate the swings but I love being an underdog |
'Cause when I’m pushed |
I end up swinging up |
Nobody puts baby in the corner |
I’m only tryna warn ya |
'Cause that baby gets mad |
And gets to throwing a tantrum |
He’ll fucking flip on ya |
'Cause nobody puts baby in the corner |
I’m only tryna warn ya |
'Cause that baby gets mad |
And gets to throwing a tantrum |
He’ll fucking flip on ya |