Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Get You Mad , by - Eminem. Release date: 22.02.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Get You Mad |
| My attitude is worse than N.W.A's was |
| I’ll battle you over stupid shit |
| And diss people who ain’t have shit to do with it |
| Like Cool J does (My tattoo) |
| You see me standin' outside of your buildin' |
| Screamin', «Puffy is good, but Slim Shady is for the children» |
| I look at my life in a new light |
| Fuck it, give me two mics |
| I write songs for me, fuck what you like |
| You probably hear me rap half-hearted |
| 'Cause I don’t like rap anyway |
| I’m just tryna get my porno career started (Oh, hell yeah) |
| Every place and event, been there, done that |
| Shit, Dre stuck me in a suitcase when he went |
| Want a deal? |
| Study these five chapters |
| Lesson 1, throw demos as hard as you can at signed rappers |
| Lesson 2, face 'em and diss 'em (What up, dawg?) |
| Don’t give 'em a demo, kidnap 'em |
| (Come on, you’re comin' with me, motherfucker, check this out) |
| And make 'em come to your basement and listen |
| Lesson 3, get a job at a label |
| Switch demos with Canibus and put yours on the owner’s table |
| (Here, listen) |
| Lesson 4, know you heard this before |
| «Hey, let me get your number, I’ll call you tomorrow for sure» |
| Don’t act like a fan, you wanna get signed |
| Get the whitest A&R you can find |
| Pull him aside and rap as wack as you can (Hey dude, come here) |
| Lesson 5, get a hook-up at Jive |
| Dress up like I.C.P. |
| and have them come see you perform live |
| And that’s the key, but when you see me on the street |
| I ain’t givin' you shit, bitch, don’t even bother askin' me |
| Toilet water splashes me right in the ass when I’m spittin' |
| 'Cause I’m always shittin' when I’m rappin', like Master P (Ungh) |
| Got a blowjob from Paula Jones and stuffed it so far in her mouth |
| My balls broke both of her collarbones |
| Told Mya this shit was all about me-ah |
| Gave Alyssa Milano syphilis, mono and gonorrhea |
| And all three of my main girls said, «See ya» |
| 'Cause Brandy and Monica walked in |
| And caught me fuckin' Aaliyah |
| I splish-splash while I’m takin' a bath |
| Grab a handful of pills, break 'em in half, take 'em and laugh |
| White trash, fuckin' your wife in the ass |
| While you’re out siphonin' gas |
| For your lawn mower to cut the grass |
| So if I hurt your self-esteem and you get dissed too bad |
| (Yo, why you diss me?) |
| You know I just be sayin' that to get you mad |
| And when I rap about a buncha shit you wished you had |
| (A big dick) |
| You know I just be sayin' that to get you mad |
| I can’t listen to that song, that shit’s too sad |
| You know I just be sayin' that to get you mad |
| He’ll never make it, his wrist is slit too bad (Nurse, nurse) |
| You know I just be sayin' that to get you mad |
| What a wonderful day, I should go outside and play |
| Ain’t no need to sit inside the house and hibernate |
| Hi, Renée (Oh, hi) |
| I was just about to toss a live grenade |
| In your driveway and drive away (What?) |
| Are you afraid of a blade made of a razor with AIDS? |
| Blood drippin' from it |
| Rippin' your stomach like a paper mâché |
| You talk a lot of shit, but you was never ill, though |
| I’m sick enough to beat you to death with a feather pillow |
| Tipped over some cows, just for a joke and a laugh |
| Jumped up, choked a giraffe |
| Snapped his neck and broke it in half |
| Wagin' wars, went on stage |
| And sprayed Cage with Agent Orange |
| And wiped my ass with his page in Source (Here) |
| The demon is here, I’m steamin' this year |
| I rip ********* voice box out and scream in his ear |
| It’s not a gimmick, bitch, it’s an image, I live it |
| Give a fuck? |
| I don’t know what a fuck is to give it |
| «Yeah, I don’t think this guy is well» |
| I’m high as hell, I’ll beat you with a live cat |
| When I’m swingin' him by his tail |
| I’ll fuckin', I’ll fuckin', lay your nuts on the dresser |
| Just your nutsack by itself |
| And bang them shits with a spiked bat |
| Cut your neck off, then sew your head right back |
| And leave you like that |
| You just triggered a prick who just mixed liquor |
| Who’s itchin' to leave you disfigured |
| And stiffer than Christopher Reeves |
| I was dealing with strep throat |
| While your mother was breastfeeding |
| And gave her the flesh-eating disease |
| I’m iller than takin' a hammer and beating your knees |
| And walkin' through South Central L.A., bleeding in jeans |
| (Am I a Blood or a Crip?) |
| Wakin' up the next day in breathing machines |
| Flashin' back to bein' shot and repeating the scenes |
| On how you just got smoked, and if you do live |
| You’ll be too scared to tell it, like a Biggie and Pac joke |
| So if I hurt your self-esteem and you get dissed too bad |
| You know I just be sayin' that to get you mad |
| And when I rap about a buncha shit you wished you had |
| You know I just be sayin' that to get you mad |
| I can’t listen to that song, that shit’s too sad |
| You know I just be sayin' that to get you mad |
| He’ll never make it, his wrist is slit too bad |
| You know I just be sayin' that to get you mad |
| I know that makes you real mad, don’t it? |
| (Uh-huh) |
| That’s right, Slim Shady (Yup) |
| Sway and Tech, sprayin' wreck (Bitch) |
| And we don’t give a heck (Uh-uh) |
| Or a damn or a fuck or a shit |
| So suck my mothafuckin' dick |
| The Wake Up Show, let me tell you what it mean to me |
| It mean hard beats, hard rhymes, B-boys |
| Hip-hop, baby, all the way, forever |