| I murder a rhyme one word at a time
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| You never heard of a mind as perverted as mine
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| You better get rid of that nine it ain’t gonna help
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| What good’s it gonna do against a man that strangles himself?
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| I’m waitin for hell like hell shit I’m anxious as hell
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| Manson you’re safe in that cell, be thankful it’s jail
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| I used to be my mommy’s little angel at twelve
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| Thirteen I was puttin shells in a gauge on a shelf
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| I used to, get punked and bullied on my block
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| 'til I cut a kitten’s head off and stuck it in this kid’s mailbox
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| I used to give a — fuck, now I could give a fuck less
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| What do I think of suc-cess? |
| It sucks, too much press I’m stressed
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| Too much stares two breasts, too upset
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| It’s just too much mess, I guess I must just blew up quick (yes)
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| Grew up quick (no) was raised right
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| Whatever you say is wrong, whatever I say is right
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| You think of my name now whenever you say, Hi Became a commodity because I’m W-H-I-
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| -T-E, cuz MTV was so friendly to me Can’t wait 'til Kim sees me Now is it worth it? |
| Look at my life, how is it perfect?
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| Read my lips bitch, what, my mouth isn’t workin?
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| You hear this finger? |
| Oh it’s upside down
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| Here, let me turn this motherfucker up right now
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| I take each individual degenerate’s head and reach into it just to see if he’s influenced by me if he listens to music
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| And if he feeds into this shit he’s an innocent victim
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| and becomes a puppet on the string of my tennis shoe
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| My name is Slim Shady
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| I been crazy way before radio didn’t play me The sensational
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| With Ken Kaniff, who just finds the men edible
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| It’s Ken Kaniff on the, internet
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| Tryin to, lure your kids with him, into bed
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| It’s a, sick world we live in these days
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| Slim for Pete’s sakes put down Christopher Reeve’s legs!
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| Geez, you guys are so sensitive
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| Slim it’s a touchy subject, try and just don’t mention it Mind with no sense in it, fried to get so frenetic
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| whose eyes get so squinted, I’m blind from smokin 'em
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| with my windows tinted, with nine limos rented
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| Doin lines of coke in 'em, with a bunch of guys hoppin out
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| all high and indo scented
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| And that’s where I get my name from, that’s why they call me I take seven from, stand 'em all in line
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| Add an AK-47, a revolver, a nine
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| a Mack-11 and it oughta solve the problem of mine
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| and that’s a whole school of bullies shot up all at one time
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| Cause (I'mmmm) Shady, they call me as crazy
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| as the world was over this whole Y2K thing
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| And by the way, N’Sync, why do they sing?
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| Am I the only one who realizes they stink?
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| Should I dye my hair pink and care what y’all think?
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| Lip sync and buy a bigger size of earrings?
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| It’s why I tend to block out when I hear things
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| Cause all these fans screamin is makin my ears ring (AHHHH!!!)
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| So I just, throw up a middle finger and let it linger
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| longer than the rumor that I was stickin it to Christina
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| Cause if I ever stuck it to any singer in showbiz
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| it’d be Jennifer Lopez, and Puffy you know this!
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| I’m sorry Puff, but I don’t give a fuck if this chick was my own mother
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| I still fuck her with no rubber and cum inside her
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| and have a son and a new brother at the same time
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| and just say that it ain’t mine, what’s my name?
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| Guess who’s b-back, back
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| Gue-gue-guess who’s back (Hi mom!)
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| Guess who’s back
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| Gue guess who’s back
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| D-12 Guess who’s back
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| Gue, gue-gue-gue, guess who’s back
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| Dr. Dre Guess who’s back
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| Back back back
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| Slim Shady, 2001
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| I’m blew out from this blunt (*sighs*) fuck |