Lyrics So Far... - Eminem

So Far...

I own a mansion but live in a house
A king-size bed but I sleep on the couch
I’m Mr. Brightside, glass is half-full
But my tank’s half empty, gasket just blew
This always happens
Thirty minutes from home, gotta lay a log cabin
Only option I have’s McDonalds’s bathroom
In a public stall, droppin' a football
So every time someone walks in the john, I get maddened
«Shady, what up?»
What?
Come on, man, I’m crappin'
And you’re askin' for my goddamn autograph on a napkin?
Oh, that’s odd, I just happened to run out of tissue
Yeah, hand me that, on second thought I’d be glad then
«Thanks, dawg!
Name’s Todd, a big fan»
I wiped my ass with it, crumbled it up in a wad and threw it back and
Told him: «Todd, you’re the shit,» when’s all of this crap end?
Can’t pump my gas without causin' an accident
Pump my gas, cut my grass, I can’t take out the fuckin' trash
Without someone passin' through my sub, harassin'
I’d count my blessings, but I suck at math
I’d rather wallow than bask sufferin' succotash
But the ant-acid, it gives my stomach gas
When I mix my corn with my fuckin' mashed
Potatoes, so what?
Ho, kiss my country bumpkin ass
Missouri Southern roots, what the fuck is upper class?
Call lunch dinner, call dinner supper
Tupperware in the cupboard, plasticware up the ass
Stuck in the past—iPod, what the fuck is that?
B-Boy to the core, mule, I’m a stubborn ass
Maybe that’s why I feel so strange
Got it all, but I still won’t change
Maybe that’s why I can’t leave Detroit
It’s the motivation that keeps me goin'
This is the inspiration I need
I could never turn my back on a city that made me
And (Life's been good to me so far)
They call me classless, I heard that, I second and third that
Don’t know what the fuck I’d be doin' if it weren’t rap
Probably be a giant turd sack
But I blew, never turned back
Turned 40 and still sag—teenagers act more fuckin' mature, Jack
Fuck you gonna say to me?
I’ll leave on my own terms, asshole
I’m goin' berzerk, my nerves are bad
But I love the perks my work has
I get to meet famous people, look at her dag
Her nylons are ran, her skirt’s snagged
And I heard she drag-races, *burp* swag
Tuck in my Hanes shirt tag
You’re Danica Patrick (Yeah?) word, skag
We’d be the perfect match
'Cause you’re a vacuum, I’m a dirtbag
My apologies, no disrespect to technology
But what the heck’s all of these buttons?
You expect me to sit here and learn that?
Fuck I gotta do to hear this new song from Luda?
Be an expert at computers?
I’d rather be an Encyclopedia Britannica, hell with
PlayStation, I’m still on my first man on some Zelda
Nintendo, bitch!
Run, jump, punch, stab, and I melt the
Mozzarella on my spaghetti
Put in on bread, make a sandwich with Welch’s, and belch
They say this spray butter’s bad for my health, but
I think this poor white trash from the trailer
Jed Clampett, Fred Sanford, and welfare
Mentality helps to keep me grounded
That’s why I never take full advantage of wealth, I
Managed to dwell within these parameters
Still crammin' the shelves full of Hamburger Helper
I can’t even help it, this is the hand I was dealt, a
Creature of habit, feel like I’m trapped in an animal shelter
With all these pet peeves, goddamn it, to hell, I
Can’t stand all these kids with their camera cellphones
I can’t go anywhere, I get so mad I could yell, the
Other day, someone got all elaborate
And stuck a head from a fuckin' dead cat in my mailbox
Went to Burger King—they spit on my onion rings
I think my karma’s catchin' up with me
Maybe that’s why I feel so strange
Got it all, but I still won’t change
Maybe that’s why I can’t leave Detroit
It’s the motivation that keeps me goin'
This is the inspiration I need
I could never turn my back on a city that made me
And (Life's been good to me so far)
Got friends on Facebook all over the world
Not sure what that means, they tell me it’s good
So I’m artist of the decade, I even got a plaque
I’d hang it up, but the frame is all cracked
I’m tryin' to be low-key, hopefully nobody notices me
In produce, hunched over, giant nosebleed
Ogre style as I mosey over to the frozen aisle
By the frozen yogurt this guy approached me
Embarrassed, I just did Comerica with Hova
The show’s over, I’m hidin' in Kroger, buyin' groceries
He just had front-row seats
Told me to sign this poster, then insults me
«Wow!
Up close didn’t know you had crow’s feet!»
I’m at a crossroads, lost, still shoppin' at Costco’s
Sloppy Joe’s, bulk waffles
Got caught pickin' my nose (Agh!)
Look over, see these two hot hoes
Finger still up one of my nostrils
Right next to 'em, stuck at the light, the fuckin' shit’s
Takin' forever to change, it’s stuck, these bitches are lovin' it
Rubbin' it in, chucklin', couldn’t do nothin'
Play it off, «What you bumpin'?»
«Trunk Muzik, Yelawolf’s better,» fuckin' bitch!
They want me to flip at the label, but I won’t succumb to it
The pressure, they want me to follow up with
Another one, after Recovery was so highly coveted
But what good is a fuckin' recovery if I fumble it?
'Cause I’ma drop the ball if I don’t get a grip
Hoppin' out shrubbery on you sons of bitches
Wrong subdivision to fuck with, bitch
Quit snappin' fuckin' pictures of my kids
I love my city, but you pushed me to the limit—what a pity!
The shit I complain about
It’s like there ain’t a cloud in the sky and it’s rainin' out
Kool-Aid stain on the couch, I’ll never get it out
But bitch, I got an elevator in my house
Ants and a mouse—I'm livin' the dream!
Maybe that’s why I feel so strange
Got it all, but I still won’t change
Maybe that’s why I can’t leave Detroit
It’s the motivation that keeps me goin'
This is the inspiration I need
I could never turn my back on a city that made me
And (Life's been good to me so far)