| Yeah, trying to figure out the difference | 
| But I think, I think the lines are starting to get blurry | 
| I’m in a strange place | 
| I feel like Ma$e when he gave up the game for his faith | 
| I feel like I’m caged in these chains and restraints | 
| Grimming every stranger in the place while I gaze into space | 
| 'Cause I’m mentally rearranging his face | 
| I need a change of pace 'cause the pace I’m working at is dangerous | 
| There’s nowhere to dump this anger and thanks to this angst | 
| I done quit chicken heads in cold turkey and started slowly roasting 'em | 
| 'Cause that’s where most of my anger is based | 
| Fuck your feelings, I feel like I play for the Saints | 
| I just wanna hurt you, aim for the skanks | 
| Then aim for all these fake Kanye’s, Jay’s, Wayne’s and the Drake’s | 
| I’m frustrated 'cause ain’t no more N’Sync, now I’m all out of whack | 
| I’m all out of Backstreet Boys to call out and attack | 
| I’m going all out in this rap shit and whatever the fallout is | 
| I’m strapped for battle sucka-duck, crawl out the back, it’s a bar fight | 
| Prepare your arsenal and beware of bar stools flying through the air | 
| And bottles breaking, mirrors also | 
| And I ain’t stopping 'til the swear jar’s full | 
| You done called every woman a slut, but you’re forgetting Sarah, | 
| Marshall (Palin) | 
| Oh my bad, slut | 
| And next time I show up to court I’ll be naked and just wear a lawsuit | 
| Judge be like «That's sharp, how much did that motherfucker cost you? | 
| Smart ass, you’re lucky I don’t tear it off you | 
| And jump your bones, you sexy motherfucker | 
| You’re so fucking gravy, Marshall, I should start calling you „au jus“ | 
| 'Cause all’s you do is spit them lyrics out the wazoo. | 
| Evil twin, take this beat now, it’s all you.» | 
| I believe people can change, but only for the worse | 
| I could’ve changed the world if it wasn’t for this verse | 
| So satanic K-Mart chains panic | 
| 'Cause they can’t even spin back the curse words | 
| 'Cause they’re worse when they’re reversed, motherfucker | 
| (rape your mother, kill your parents) | 
| Shit, motherfucker, and these kids are like parrots | 
| They run around the house just like terrorists | 
| Screaming «fuck, shit, fuck» | 
| Adult with a childish-like arrogance | 
| Wild ever since the day I came out I was like «merits, fuck that» | 
| I’d rather be loud and I like swearing | 
| From the first album even the gals were like «tight lyrics, dreamy eyes» | 
| But my fucking mouth was nightmarish | 
| And from the start of it you felt like you were a part of this | 
| And the opposition felt the opposite | 
| Sometimes I listen and revisit them old albums | 
| Often as I can and skim through all them bitches | 
| To make sure I keep up with my competition | 
| (ha ha) Hogger of beats, hoarder of rhymes | 
| Borderline genius who’s bored of his lines | 
| And that sort of defines where I’m at and the way I feel now | 
| Feel like I might just strike first and ignore the replies | 
| There’s darkness closing in (evil twin) | 
| There it goes again (my evil twin), | 
| It controls my pen (my evil twin), | 
| But that ain’t me, it’s my evil twin | 
| (then I step out and see my evil twin he gives me an evil grin) | 
| But he’s just a friend (evil twin), | 
| Who pops up now and again (again) | 
| So don’t blame me (evil twin) | 
| Blame him, it’s my evil twin | 
| (then I step out and see my evil twin he gives me an evil grin) | 
| Welcome back to the land of the living, my friend | 
| You have slept for quite some time | 
| So who’s left? | 
| Lady Gaga? | 
| Mess with the Bieber? | 
| Nah, F with Christina, I ain’t fucking with either Jessica neither | 
| Simpson or Alba, my albums just sicker than strep with the fever | 
| Get the Cloriseptic, Excedrin, Aleve or Extra Strength Tylenol 3's | 
| Feel like I’m burning to death, but I’m freezin' | 
| Bed-ridden and destined never to leave the | 
| Bedroom ever again like the legend of Heath-uh- Ledger | 
| My suicide notes, barely legible read the | 
| Bottom, it’s signed by The Joker | 
| Lorena said I never can leave her | 
| She’d sever my wiener I ever deceive her | 
| Fuck that shit, bitch | 
| Give up my dick for pussy, I’d be Jerry Mathers | 
| I ever left it to Beaver | 
| Get them titties cut off tryna mess with a cleaver | 
| Golly-wally, I vent, heat register, Jesus | 
| Ever since 1−9-9−4-6 Dresden it was definitely my destiny | 
| When on the steps I met DeShaun at Osborn | 
| I’d never make it to sophomore | 
| I just wanted to skip school and rap, used to mop floors | 
| Flip burgers and wash dishes while I wrote rhymes tryna get props for 'em | 
| 'Cause I took book-smarts and swapped for 'em | 
| They were sleeping, I made 'em stop snorin' | 
| Made 'em break out the popcorn | 
| Now I’ve been hip-hop in its tip-top form | 
| Since N.W.A. | 
| was blaring through my car windows leaning on the horn | 
| Screaming, «Fuck the police!"like cop porn | 
| Flipped rap on its ear like I dropped corn | 
| Fuck top 5, bitch, I’m top 4 | 
| And that includes Biggie and Pac, whore | 
| And I got an evil twin, so who the fuck do you think that 3rd and that 4th | 
| spot’s for? | 
| And crazy as I am I’m much tamer than him | 
| And I’m nuts, then again who the fuck wants a plain Eminem? | 
| But no one’s insaner than Slim, look at that evil grin (evil twin) | 
| Please come in, what was your name again? | 
| Hi, faggot | 
| Look who’s back with a crab up his ass like a lobster crawled up there | 
| Two rabbits, a koala bear and a ball of hair | 
| And you’re all aware I don’t got it all upstairs | 
| Guess that’s why I’m an addict and it’s so small up there | 
| Peace to Whitney, geez, just hit me | 
| That I should call the Looney Police to come get me | 
| 'Cause I’m so sick of being the truth I wish someone’d finally admit me | 
| To a mental hospital with Britney | 
| Oh, LMFAO, no way, ho | 
| Jose Baez couldn’t beat this rap, OJ no | 
| Hooray, I’m off the hook like Casey Anthony | 
| Hey ho, hey ho | 
| I sound like I’m tryna sing the fucking chorus to «Hip Hop Hooray»? | 
| No, I’m hollering, you got bottom end like an 8−0-8 | 
| And I base whether we’re fucking off that instead of your face, so | 
| Let your low-end raise, yo | 
| Tango, what you think, ho? | 
| Slow dancing in the bowling | 
| You tryna hold hands with your homie? | 
| What? | 
| You think I’m looking for romance 'cause I’m lonely? | 
| Change that tune, you ain’t got a remote chance to control me | 
| Hoe, I’m only vulnerable when I got a boner | 
| Superman tried to fuck me over, it won’t hurt | 
| Don’t try to fix me, I’m broke so I don’t work | 
| So are you, but you’re broke 'cause you don’t work | 
| But all bullshit aside I hit a stride | 
| Still Shady inside, hair every bit as dyed | 
| As it used to be when I first introduced y’all to my skittish side | 
| And blamed it on him when they tried to criticize | 
| 'Cause we are the same, bitch |