| It’s like I’m in this dirt, digging up old hurt
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| Tried everything to get my mind off you, it won’t work
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| All it takes is one song on the radio you’re right back on it
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| Reminding me all over again how you fucking just brushed me off
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| And left me so burnt, spent a lot of time trying to soul search
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| Maybe I needed to grow up a little first
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| Well, looks like I hit a growth spurt
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| But I am coming for closure
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| Don’t suppose an explanation I’m owed for
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| The way that you turned your back on me
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| Just when I may have needed you most
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| Oh, you thought it was over
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| You can just close the chapter
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| And go about your life, like it was nothing
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| You ruined mine, but you seem to be doing fine
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| I’d never recovered but tonight I betcha that whatcha
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| 'Bout to go through’s tougher than anything I ever have suffered
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| Can’t think of a better way to define poetic justice
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| Can I hold grudges, mind is saying: «let it go, f*ck this»
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| Heart is saying: «I will once I bury this b*tch alive
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| Hide the shovel and then drive off in the sunset»
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| I flee the scene like it was my last ride
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| You see right through, oh, you had me pegged the first time
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| You can’t see the truth but it’s easier to justify what’s bad is good
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| And I hate to be the bad guy, I just hate to be the bad guy
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| And to think I used to think you was the sh*t, b*tch
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| To think it was you at one time I worshipped, shit
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| Think you can hurt people and just keep getting away with it?
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| Not this time, you better go and get sewing kit, b*tch
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| Finish this stitch so you can reap what you sow, nitwit
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| Thought some time had past and I forget it, forget it!
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| You left our family in shambles
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| You expect me to just get over him? |
| Pretend he never existed
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| Maybe gone, but he’s not forgotten
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| And don’t think cause he’s been out the pictures so long
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| That I’ve stopped the plottin' and still ain’t coming to get ya
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| You’re wrong and that sh*t was rotten
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| And the way you played him, same sh*t you did to me, go!
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| Have you any idea that sh*t I’ve gone through?
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| Feelings I harbor, all this pent up resentment I hold on to
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| Not once you called to ask me how I’m doing
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| Letters, you don’t respond to 'em
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| Fuck it, I’m coming to see you
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| And gee who better to talk to than you?
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| The cause of my problems
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| My life is garbage and I’m 'bout to take it out on you
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| Poof, then I’m gone
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| I flee the scene like it was my last ride
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| You see right through, oh, you had me pegged the first time
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| You can’t see the truth but it’s easier to justify what’s bad is good
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| And I hate to be the bad guy, I just hate to be the bad guy
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| I’ve been driving around your side of this town
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| Like 9 frickin' hours and 45 minutes now
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| Finally I found your new address, park in your drive
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| Feel like I been waiting on this moment all of my life
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| And it’s now arrived, and my mouth is full of saliva
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| My knife is out and I’m ducking on the side of your house
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| See, it’s sad it came to this point
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| Such a disappointment I had to make this appointment to come and see ya
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| But ain’t here for ya empathy, I don’t need your apology
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| Or your friendship of sympathy, it’s revenge that I seek
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| So I sneak vengefully and treat your bedroom window
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| Like I reach my full potential, I peaked
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| Continue to peep, still bent low
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| Keep tapping the glass lightly then start to crescendo
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| Sneak all the way 'round to the back porch
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| Man, door handles unlocked, shouldn’t be that easy to do this
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| You don’t plan for intruders before hand?
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| Surprised to see me? |
| Cat got your tongue?
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| Gag, chloroform rag, gag almost hack up a lung
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| Like you picked up an axe up and then swung
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| Stick to the core plan, drag to the back of a trunk
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| By one of your fans, irony spectacular, huh?
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| Now who’s a faggot, you punk?
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| And here’s your Bronco hat, you can have that sh*t back cause they suck
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| It’s just me, you and the music now, Slim
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| I hope you hear it we are in a car right now
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| Wait, here comes my favorite lyric
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| I’m the bad guy who makes fun of people that die
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| And hey, here’s a sequel to my Mathers LP
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| Just to try to get people to buy
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| How’s this for publicity stunt? |
| This should be fun
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| Last album now cause after this you’ll be officially done |
| Eminem killed by M&M
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| Matthew Mitchell, b*tch, I even have your initials
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| I initially was gonna bury you next to my brother, but f*ck it
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| Since you love you’re city so much
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| I figured, what the f*ck the best place you could be buried alive is right here
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| Two more exits, town is quite near
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| I hope we don’t get stopped, no license I fear
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| That sirens I hear? |
| Guess 90 on the freeway wasn’t the brightest idea
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| As cops appear in my driver side mirror
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| (Oh, God, Police! Ah!)
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| Hope foxtrot gets an aerial shot of your burial plot, at least
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| New plan Stan
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| Slim, chauvinist pig drove in this big, lincoln town car
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| Well gotta go, almost at the bridge, haha big bro it’s for you
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| Slim, this is for him and Frank Ocean, oh hope you can swim good!
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| Now say you hate homos again!
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| I also represent anyone on the receiving end of those jokes you offend
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| I’m the nightmare you fell asleep in and woke up still in
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| I’m your karma closing in with each stroke of a pen
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| Perfect time to have some remorse to show for your sin
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| No, it’s hopeless, I’m the denial that you’re hopelessly in
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| When they say all of this is approaching its end
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| But you refuse to believe that it’s over, here we go all over again
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| Backs to the wall, I’m stacking up all them odds
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| Toilets clogged, Yeah 'cause I’m talking a lot of shit but I’m backing it all up
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| But in my head there’s a voice in the back and it hollas
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| After the track is demolished
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| I am your lack of a conscience
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| I’m the ringing in your ears
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| I’m the polyps on the back of your tonsils
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| Eating your vocal chords after your concerts
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| I’m your time that’s almost up that you haven’t acknowledged
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| Grab for some water but I’m that pill that’s too jagged to swallow
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| I’m the bullies you hate, that you became
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| With every faggot you slaughtered
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| Coming back on you every woman you insult
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| That, with the double-standards you have when it comes to your daughters
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| I represent everything, you take for granted
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| 'Cause Marshall Mathers the rapper’s persona’s half a facade
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| And Matthew and Stan’s just symbolic
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| Of you not knowing what you had until it’s gone
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| 'Cause after all the glitz and the glam
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| No more fans that are calling your name, cameras are off
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| Sad, but it happens to all of them
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| I’m the hindsight to say, «I told you so!»
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| Foreshadows of all the things that are to follow
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| I’m the future that’s here to show you what happens tomorrow
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| If you don’t stop after they call you the
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| Biggest laughing stock of rap who can’t call it quits
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| When it’s time to walk away, I’m every guilt trip
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| The baggage you had, but as you gather up all your possessions
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| If there’s anything you have left to say
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| Unless it makes an impact don’t bother
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| So before you rest your case
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| Better make sure you’re packing a wallop
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| So one last time, I’m back
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| Before it fades into black and it’s all over
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| Behold the final chapter in the saga
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| Trying to recapture that lightning trapped in a bottle
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| Twice the magic that started it all
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| Tragic portrait of an artist tortured
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| Trapped in his own drawings
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| Tap into thoughts
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| Blacker and darker than anything imaginable
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| Here goes a wild stab in the dark
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| As we pick up the last Mathers left off |