Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Campaign Speech , by - Eminem. Release date: 21.10.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Campaign Speech , by - Eminem. Campaign Speech |
| Jumped out of the 2nd floor of a record store |
| With a Treacherous Four cassette and a cassette recorder |
| In Ecuador with Edward Norton |
| Witness the metamorphosis |
| Of a legend growin' like an expert swordsman |
| From the Hessian war and |
| Hence the origin of the Headless Horseman |
| Born with the endorphins of a pathetic orphan |
| Endless source and reservoir |
| Of extension cords in dresser drawers |
| And deadbolts on the bedroom doors |
| And sexual torture kits kept in a separate storage bin |
| Excellent boyfriend |
| Use intercourse to settle scores |
| With women who have been vendettas towards men |
| Dickhead is forced in 'til there’s shredded foreskin |
| Reddish torn and they’re only bein' fed a portion |
| Bed sores and sore shins |
| Pregnant whores can get abortions |
| Fetish for stickin' metal forks in, self-absorption |
| Skeletor, I went to Hell and fell a floor |
| A predator, I’m headed for competitors |
| Better warn 'em, what I lack in tact and a set of morals |
| I make up for in metaphors like a cosmetic store |
| Stegosaurus, Chuck Norris with a thesaurus |
| Yes, of course, a mess of warrants |
| You want some? |
| Come and get some, boys! |
| I’m givin' Daniel Pantaleo a refresher course |
| On excessive force and pressure points |
| And dressin' George Zimmerman in a fluorescent orange |
| Dress and four inch heels to address the court |
| With a bullseye on his back, his whole chest and torso |
| Or left on the doorsteps of Trayvon’s dad as a present for him |
| In my present form I’m Desert Storm |
| Appetite for destruction there’s no suppressant for |
| Aggressive, forceful, and less remorseful in every morsel |
| Unpleasant, horrible; |
| hello, gorgeous! |
| The rebel with devil horns just fell off the yellow short bus |
| Met a contortionist, said, «When you wanna get sexual?» |
| She said, «However I fit in your schedule. |
| I’m flexible.» |
| Expired tags on the Saturn, got Catherine Bach |
| In the back in Daisy Dukes with the hazards on |
| At a traffic stop gettin' harassed, sign an autograph |
| For this asshole cop’s daughter |
| Laugh 'cause I called her a brat on it |
| He spat on it and brought it back lookin' half in shock |
| Had a heart attack and dropped dead |
| Started fallin' back with it |
| And got slapped with a Colin Kaepernick practice sock |
| One ball and half a dick, Apple Watch |
| Crack front axle, walked in a Bass Pro Shop with David Hasselhoff, |
| pulled Tabasco sauce out of my satchel |
| Knocked over a fisherman’s tackle box and *crash sound* |
| Asked if they had a laughin' stock |
| That was fuckin' stupid… |
| You got it twisted, all 'cause I offered this bitch |
| A doggie biscuit, you call me misogynistic |
| Bitch, get to massagin' this dick! |
| Like spas in this bitch, slob on it with gobs of lipstick |
| Got a shoppin' list for you to run some odds and ends with |
| It’s not a bitch on this earth I can be monogamous with |
| She’s non-existent |
| Robin Thicke with a throbbin' dick on some suave and slick shit |
| But I shout derogatives at bitches like fuckin' missile launches |
| Misfit, blond and nitwit |
| Like I’ve gone ballistic, with a frostin' tip kit |
| Screamed, «I hate blondes,"and became one, I’m optimistic |
| Love to start shit |
| Shovin' Clark Kent’s undergarments in the glove compartment |
| Of the bucket, bumpin' Bubba Sparxxx |
| I’m double parkin' up at Targets, trouble 'causer, a double crosser |
| Shadiest mothafucka you’ll ever come across |
| Olympic gymnast, been known for some assaults |
| A couple lawsuits, enough to cause a stomach ulcer |
| Same damn brain scan results as Rainman’s is |
| Something’s off, but when Dustin Hoffman’s |
| Dressin' up in your mummy costume |
| On stage dancin' to «Brain Damage,"what's the problem? |
| Nothing’s wrong, the name brand is back to reclaim status |
| Run the faucet, I’ma dunk |
| A bunch of Trump supporters underwater |
| Snuck up on 'em in Ray Bans in a gray van with a spray tan |
| It’s a wrap, like an Ace bandage |
| Don’t-give-a-fuck persona, to my last DNA strand |
| E&J in the waistband, at the VMAs with the stagehand |
| She wants kielbasa, pre-arrange an escape plan |
| Three-inch blade on point, like a See-and-Say |
| Consider me a dangerous man |
| But you should be afraid of this dang candidate |
| You say Trump don’t kiss ass like a puppet |
| 'Cause he runs his c&aign with his own cash for the fundin' |
| And that’s what you wanted |
| A fuckin' loose cannon who’s blunt with his hand on the button |
| Who doesn’t have to answer to no one—great idea! |
| If I was president |
| Gettin' off is the first order of business |
| Once I get in office |
| Second thing that’ll make me happy’s walkin' up to Uncle Sam |
| Naked, laughin', dick cupped in hand |
| Screamin', «Fuck safe sex!» |
| Throw a latex and an AIDS test at him |
| Tell Congress I run this land |
| And I want the rubber banned, and make it snappy |
| Addiction to friction and static |
| Addict who can’t escape the habit |
| Continue to chase the dragon |
| But as fate would have it, I walked up in major Magics |
| Dressed as the maintenance man |
| In a laser tag vest and a racin' jacket |
| With a gauge to blast it |
| And sped away in the station wagon |
| Stacey Dash’s and Casey Anthony’s |
| Crazy asses in the backseat |
| Throwin' Stayfree pads at me |
| Dead passenger in the passenger seat |
| Unfasten the safety latches |
| And slam on the brakes in traffic so hard |
| I snapped the relocation brackets for the monster tires |
| 'Finna get a murder case and catch it |
| Like you threw it at me encased in plastic |
| And send Dylan Roof through the windshield of the Benz |
| Until he spins like a pinwheel and begins feelin'… |
| Like a windmiller with a thin build while his skin’s peelin' |
| And skids 'til he hits a cement pillar |
| Swing for the fence like Prince Fielder |
| Knock it into the upper peninsula |
| You wanna go against 'zilla? |
| The Rap God |
| When will I quit? |
| Never been realer |
| The in-stiller of fear, not even a scintilla of doubt |
| Whose pens iller than Prince in a chinchilla |
| Or Ben Stiller in a suspense thriller |
| Revenge killer, avenge syllable binge |
| Fill a syringe, 'til I |
| Draw first blood |
| Even pop shit on my pop shit, and it’s popular |
| Couldn’t be more awkwarder |
| Cause you’re innocence I robbed you of |
| It’s my fingers that got stuck up |
| Taught ya ta, not give a |
| Slapstick, hockey puck |
| The broad hunter with the sawed off |
| Like an arm when it’s lopped off of ya |
| But I’m not gonna, get the shotgun |
| Or the Glock, I’m gonna opt for the ox |
| Cause I’m into objects that are sharp when I shop |
| And it’s not a shock, I’m such an obnoxious fucker |
| The Rock Hudson of rock 'cause who would have thought |
| This much of a cocksucker to go across the buttocks of Vivica Fox with a box |
| cutter |
| That was for 50, little slap on the wrist be warned |
| I’m unrevealin' quickly |
| My squabbles, I’m grappling with your time traveling with me |
| Try and follow, as I wobble, relapse into history, with a flask of the whiskey |
| Tip it back then I’m twisting wine bottles |
| Like what happened to Chris Reeves' spine column |
| That’s the plan of attack when I’m fixing my problems |
| Wish my chest wasn’t having to get these rhymes off 'em |
| But the fact that I have so many rappers against me mind boggles |
| And why I haven’t come back on these faggots who diss me is |
| More of a spectacular mystery than a fucking Agatha Christie crime novel |
| But my patience is wearing thin |
| Swear I been contemplatin' rubbing shit in your face 'til I smear it in |
| Diss you in every lyric until you fear the pen |
| And never appear again |
| If you actually had fuckin' careers to end |
| But then I think of Molly Qerim and I steer 'em in that direction and forget my |
| ideas for them |
| Molly, I’m gone off you |
| Man, light some kush |
| You’re my first take, I’ll nail you |
| Can’t lie, I gush |
| If I won you over, you would be the grand prize |
| I’m entranced by your looks, come and give the Shady franchise a push |
| You can get it in the can like some Anheuser Busch |
| Jeans too small, least three pant sizes tush |
| Mushed against your damn side, your puss |
| And thighs are squished |
| What kind of attires that? |
| I’m ready to be rode |
| Psychopath, bet you we’ll get it poppin' like a flat |
| Light the match to ignite the wrath |
| Got knives to slash and slice hermaphrodites in half |
| Piper Chapmans might just have to picket me |
| Like a scab |
| Hard to describe in fact |
| Startling violent perhaps |
| Are things that come to mind as soon as I start spitting rhymes like that |
| And you aren’t really surprised at that |
| But as far as these lines I rap |
| And these bars, wouldn’t dial it back if I star 69ed the track |
| Why am I such a dick? |
| Name | Year |
|---|---|
| Mockingbird | 2004 |
| Smack That ft. Eminem | 2006 |
| The Real Slim Shady | 2004 |
| Lose Yourself | 2004 |
| Without Me | 2009 |
| Superman ft. Dina Rae | 2001 |
| Love The Way You Lie ft. Rihanna | 2010 |
| Not Afraid | 2010 |
| The Monster ft. Rihanna | 2012 |
| You Don't Know ft. 50 Cent, Cashis, Lloyd Banks | 2005 |
| Stan ft. Dido | 2004 |
| 'Till I Collapse ft. Nate Dogg | 2001 |
| Godzilla ft. Juice WRLD | 2020 |
| Sing For The Moment | 2004 |
| Beautiful Pain ft. Sia | 2012 |
| Beautiful | 2008 |
| Ass Like That | 2004 |
| Venom | 2018 |
| Rap God | 2012 |
| In Your Head | 2017 |