Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song ShadyXV, artist - Eminem.
Date of issue: 23.11.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
ShadyXV |
I’m liable to start a violent spark with a silent thought |
I disgust you like dialogue from The Shop to The Wired Frog |
Night club, shit, I was taught if your CD’s on fire |
You had to put it out yourself like Highland Park, no fire department |
So you might not hear sirens at all |
But don’t be alarmed if I sound off |
Something just ain’t right with me, dawg |
A martyr on a private charter, whose life could be harder? |
Widely regarded highly, bite me, sweetheart, I’m slightly retarded |
But tonight I’m starting shit, I’m feeling self righteous |
I might just hop in a mosh pit on some Mike Tyson and Pac shit |
Looking to box with anybody, disorderly conduct |
I’ll fuck around and snort a key and pick a fight with a locksmith |
Fan of the LOX, bananas, manic, I’m going in shock |
Frantic, I’m trapped in a closet |
Panic attack cause I’m claustrophobic |
No, faggot, I mean I can’t maneuver from movement |
Cause I have no room for improvement |
I’m practically squashed, unpacked it and boxed it |
Toxic, hands are arsenic, flammable bars, examine the content |
Bar exam, start of insanity |
Charles Hamilton slash Manson and Bronson |
Animal snarls, cannibal jaws |
Shark mandibles, lambs to the slaughter |
Looking scamp as Hannibal stalking |
Anthony Hopkins with his hands in his pockets |
Black out, Zach Galifianakis, gallons of Vodka |
But that gal has some knockers |
I bet you they ring a bell when I come back and I’m conscious |
What happened, doc? |
I passed out again |
Alcohol’s making me break into vacant’s naked |
Stole a Magnum box and bag Cirocs in back of a Datsun |
Fell asleep watching Fear Factor and Scare Tactics |
Too close to the StairMaster |
Poked a hole in the air mattress and popped it |
Woke up shortly thereafter, hungover |
No underwear, grasping a Bayer Aspirin and dropped it |
Air Max in my closet, preposterous Nikes made out of ostrich |
And the cross stitching is a cross mixing |
Of a rhinoceros, possum skin, giraffe and a dolphin |
Fin Dockers, OshKoshes, drop crotches |
Swatch watches and sneakers matches with the Parkers |
But it’s like being overstaffed at a boxing gym |
With all these trainers, but I don’t have any boxers |
And I’m standing here naked, hangover, still wasted |
Like paper you write raps on, obnoxious |
Yo, why does it always sound like I’m grabbing my nostrils? |
Fuck that, I’ll battle 'em all, I’ll battle a mall |
I’ll stand there and yell that at a wall |
Until the mannequin doll scatter and the inanimate objects |
That I’m battering all shatter and fall |
Cause I hear the track and I’m starting to get f*cking amped |
I’mma spark plug, I’m like the car with the cables |
Hooked up to my f*cking back, I’m a Duracell |
But I sure as hell got it backwards cause y’all could get jumped |
And I’d catch the battery charge, but |
I got a hunch like your back when it’s arching |
When I start attacking your squadron |
You’ll feel like MasterCard when I’m charging |
So take a swipe at me, I’m coming straight at you |
Like Clay Matthews from the Green Bay Packers |
So get the sack of Wisconsin |
That’s nutbag that I’m talking, who am I kidding? |
You faggots are all gonna do my bidding |
Don’t get dragged to the auction |
Neiman Marcus, bags of Vuitton and all |
I’ll push a b*tch into oncoming traffic, just watch this |
Stretched, tinted, black sedan my a*s |
See how mad you act when I drop you off at Saks Fifth Ave |
In a f*cking taxi cab to go shopping |
Affable guy next door is laughable |
My next whore’s gonna have mechanical arms |
That’ll jack me off with a lotion dispenser with a motion sensor |
No emotion hence I guess this sick prick dies hard |
I got a Magic Johnson |
It’s like a Magic Wand allows me to not let a blonde arouse me |
If Ronda Rousey was on the couch with the condoms out |
Holding a thousand Magnums at once to pounce me |
I’ll laugh in response to how she dances and flaunts it around me |
Her flat little badonkadonk is bouncing around |
And all I see is Paulie Malign now, she’s slaughterhouse in a blouse |
And Madonna with mud on her, God dammit I am misogynist |
I slap Linda Ronstadt with a lobster, throw her off a balcony |
Just so happens she’s fond of algae |
Cause now she’s faceplants on the concrete |
Complete lack of responsibility |
Half you as*holes ain’t strong enough to pick up a spirit |
Shit, you fags couldn’t shoplift at a thrift shop |
But I let the track lift 'em up, boost the energy |
Klepto, I’m back to rip shop up, but my thing is this now |
Five-finger discount |
Been rapping so long I’ve been killing this shit, it’s easy |
Kidnapping your mom cause I’m still in this bitch, thievery |
Ransom for JonBenet Ramsey, Chandra Levy, and Gary Condit |
(«Em») Paul was scared that if I went back to the blonde |
I might relapse, get on some bullsh*t |
Perhaps I’ll launch some cracker taunts at Action Bronson |
Macklemore, Mac Miller and Asher Roth |
And have some back and forths |
And record a wack response to Kendrick Lamar’s «Control» verse |
And perform «Fack» in concert |
Yo, I put that shit on a greatest hits album |
Now that was awesome |
It takes some massive balls to do some shit like that |
Sometimes I have to ponder why people are like |
(I'll stick around) |
And put up with my crap so long for |
What’s the attraction, mama? |
Is it the fact that I’m a walking, talking, actual quadruple entendre |
Or the pointy nose that’s pointing at you, mama? |
Who knows at this point, it’s always poking so meh |
Still get along with this voice cause that’s the monster |
So do-si-do with a sociopath, everyone who knows me knows that |
What they don’t know is the fact Rihanna calls me Pinocchio, meh |
She loves the way I lie |
Sits on my face and waits for my nose to grow |
Pathological liar, oh, why am I such an asshole |
That my disguise is pants, but they on fire |
So am I-a, wooh, Cappadonna, cut the track off (fart sound) |
Sabotage Christmas, crap in your stocking |
I’m wrapping up all the presents |
In fucking camouflage so you can’t even find 'em |
Jack Santa Claus, snap Rudolph’s antlers off |
Wrap his schnoz in gauze bandage and blind him |
Blowing the head gasket at Bed, Bath and Beyond |
Put the basket back while the bath salt packets are gone, I |
Know you really tired of me sampling Billy Squier |
But classic rock acid rap is the genre |
Got Slash on guitar, splashing Bizarre, Thrasher and Aerosmith |
And I’m a spectacular archer, feed count Dracula Chocula |
Godzilla, half dragon and Bob Dylan |
Bandwagoners, I’m kicking the damn stragglers off and I’m strangling 'em |
Smack Kim Basinger on a a*s… |