[Baby crying]
|
|
[Verse 1]
|
One thousand different houses and munchausen
|
I'mma make you wanna punch out some fuckin' one "ouch"
|
What the fuck'd you hit me for?
|
Scream life as I punch counter and bunches out of anger
|
I once encountered a stranger
|
In a dumb gown, black hood
|
With a scythe
|
Shit I laughed in his face spit
|
Bitch gave me an extra life, like take this
|
Now get your ass back in that game
|
Bitch don't take shit for granted
|
And don't take shit, give it!
|
Only bull you should take is by the horns
|
A mixture of Whitey Ford and mighty Thor
|
I Everlast, pen is mightier than sword
|
Finish writing then record
|
Replenish keep writing more
|
Nothing's riding on it but your privates are you're fighting for
|
So you fight, scratch, you claw
|
Backs to wall
|
No one was there to catch you fall
|
You pick yourself back up, you dust your jacket off
|
You grab your balls, like they're gargantuan and
|
Ask yourself how fucking bad you want it
|
Pull out your pants, whoop your ass and flash it on em'
|
Nobodies gonna back you in the corner
|
Throw a hornet
|
No one's more ig-norant then you fuckin' four in the morning you're at the laboratory, storming
|
Like there's nothing that's more important
|
MC's you better consider this a formal warning, you're in for it
|
Girl, what would you do if I said your body was off the chain?
|
And I told you I smile every single time I saw your face
|
I ain't finished bitch
|
I meant in half, oil the blades
|
Nobody wants to play
|
They say I'm a spoiled little baby
|
But
|
|
[Hook]
|
Nobody put's baby in the corner
|
I'm only trying to warn ya
|
Cus that baby get's mad
|
And get's to throwing a tantrum
|
He'll fucking flip on ya
|
|
Cus' nobody put's baby in the corner
|
I'm only trying to warn ya
|
Cus that baby get's mad
|
And get's to throwing a tantrum
|
He'll fucking flip on ya
|
|
[Verse 2]
|
What goes through an addict's brain?
|
Besides static pain and big daddy kane
|
Break, beats and words
|
An erratic train of thought
|
Like splatter paint
|
Scatter brain
|
Yeah maybe why that explains
|
Why you're back but you don't rap the same
|
And you're looking way thinner
|
Because your hunger got you looking like
|
They took away dinner
|
Sugar ray leonard wouldn't sugar coat a fucking booger though
|
Just to wipe that bitch on a hooker's coat
|
When you say you're a chooka what chooka what
|
Now fling that bitch from your fingertips
|
I hope it lands on another rap singers lips
|
Who can't think of shit
|
Anything of wit, that's interesting to spit
|
Whose king of this fucking English Lit?
|
Let your middle fingers flip
|
On each hand, whilst extending this shit
|
How low can you go?
|
Lower then Chuck D ho
|
Hear the bass of this in my voice
|
Rocky's back, where's my Adrian?
|
Nobodies crazy as shady in an eighty million mile radius
|
I'm what Tom Brady is to the patriots of rap
|
Not a man, I'm a weapon
|
Who just happened to be a rapper
|
Who just happen to be on the crapper
|
When it happened I had an epiphany
|
In the bathroom, I'd never be the same after
|
Now I'm back with an apper-tite
|
For destruction the fucking recipe for disaster
|
So let's eat cos' I'm famished
|
Every deed is a dastardly one
|
Evil its past it
|
Even you asking for me to be pulled
|
Like to people
|
Is like me having my teeth pulled
|
|
[Hook]
|
|
[Verse 3]
|
So step inside of dimension
|
The demented side of a mind
|
That's like the inside of an engine
|
While I multiply your undivided attention
|
But be reminded that if I didn't mention
|
I lose my mind and my temper
|
You'll be the first one
|
Who finds him offensive
|
Got him climbing the fences
|
Lost some time to addiction
|
But look up rhyme in the dictio-nary
|
I'm in the picture
|
Eminem is the synonym for it
|
I'm an enigma
|
Fuck it let's get to the meat, balls
|
I'm gonna skip the veg and potatoes
|
Edgamacater, they are
|
Shit legends are madea
|
Spit treachreous data
|
Shit that you would say to your worst enemy
|
This wretchedness is
|
What you get when you mix Treach with a Jada
|
And combine em' with Method Man and Redman
|
Whit meth-amphetamines in his left hand
|
And in his right there's a sledge-hammer
|
And pajamas, standing in front of a webcam
|
Beating himself in the head, til Russell let's him off dead jam
|
Maybe I need my head examined
|
Hannibal Lecter with a dead lamb
|
Hanging from his ceiling dripping with a bed pan
|
I need meds!
|
Swear to god cus' If I go off the edge
|
T.I ain't talking me off a ledge man
|
Heart throb at a fart, ah nah
|
More like a smart slob, part blob
|
That'll stab you with a sharp ob-ject
|
To the heart and leave claw marks
|
All over the Wal-Mart walls
|
Little baby with large balls
|
Fuck mud slinging, I'm blood flinging
|
There's nothing on this fucking earth better then being
|
King of the playground
|
I hate the swings but I love being the underdog
|
Cos when I'm pushed
|
I end up swinging up
|
|
-----------------
|
Baby
|
Eminem |