(feat. Slaughterhouse)
|
|
Yo, T
|
What?
|
Get in the backroom
|
And speak the truth to the young youth!
|
|
Hey,' don't leave home without your cars
|
But this is hip hop, so don't leave home without your balls
|
And for some of these rap start, that's just too bad
|
You can't bring out the balls that you ain't never had!
|
It's Eminem, it's Slaughterhouse,
|
Yeah, you know we're the truth
|
And the game and all the audiences, we close the booth!
|
Yes, indeed, original, speak the replacement cause
|
The back room will never be what the basement was!
|
|
Yeah, I'm the realest mother** that I know
|
Wasn't always the case, guess you figured I had to grow
|
I do it for the love, I don't do it for the dough
|
But I know these sucker figures well, so they keep me on my toes.
|
What that is I couldn't tell you what I'm hated for
|
And the painkillers didn't murder pain, they gave me more!
|
These friends on my head, now they say they want to hold you
|
I grew up mature, you all could see that this an old joke!
|
Want to see me lose every battle with depression
|
No matter what it do to me, no matter my regression
|
They want to see me fall, want to ruin my regiment from the start
|
Want to cut the beat off soon as I let 'em in my heart!
|
I'd be the first to admit it, lost focus for a while
|
Sending unsolicited bitch.. to' shit
|
Was so high I lost track of my ways
|
Then I fell in love with a baby and got mad at her age
|
The way she act and behave, was it an act or a phase?
|
How you trife when I gave you life, you was lacking in wage!
|
You don't want say hi or speak to me,
|
Bet you making 200 dollars by weekly
|
Try to help the world out, bring some reparation
|
And forget being humble in a state of desperation
|
Ain't gotta ask what to help with no hesitation
|
And for me to deal with it I might need some meditation!
|
I love you but its best we stay apart, segregation
|
And to cope with the feeling I might need some medication.
|
Trust me I don't never want to see that side of Joe
|
It would kill us all slow,
|
One reason I'm the realest mother-mother I know!
|
|
Hey, hey!
|
Ya, it's Nickle, riding round in that Maserati four seat
|
Symbol on the grill looking like Tony Stark's gold teeth
|
Best rapper alive and you know me
|
The most distinguished shooter
|
That's coming up out of the D since Joe D.
|
I take mines at lead point
|
At the risk of having to shave my garlic clove
|
In a razor inside a fed joint, uh
|
Hip hop is alive, but the rhymes died
|
Only fear I have is hear world star being yelled from my blind side.
|
Don't get me wrong it ain't like I ain't never lost a fight
|
But these days I'm more like a lyrical artist.
|
I'm outlining everybody in chalk white
|
The off-beat deceased version of Dr. Narcisse
|
The same blueprint, your idolizing
|
You're trying to jump fast, that's foolish
|
If you're my drunk past and handing me my pilot's license.
|
That's plain stupid, your boys a star
|
Sitting in that drop top fish bowl and the doors ajar
|
Its ironic I remember when I couldn't afford a car
|
And now it's back and forth,
|
the black one or white one I call 'em Macklemore
|
And Lord Jamar, first we defying the odds
|
We not a group, we more like a circular firing squad!
|
This not a booth, this is our house and we won't stop
|
We killed the ' two times already
|
What you gonna give us an award?
|
But we won't stop for shutting down the internet
|
Now tell your momma how I tell Rihanna, 'we ain't finished yet!'
|
|
Yo, yo
|
When we step in that booth, that's when the flame enters
|
Best spit, make any set trip, yeah its the gang members
|
Waving that shady flag, navy jag, matching the' fit,
|
With the polo brief showing due to the lazy sag.
|
I'm in a crazy kind of place
|
I got this thing right on my waist
|
That'll leave tears on your baby momma's face, so chill!
|
I'm in a crazy kind of place, I got this thing below my waist
|
That'll leave kids on your baby momma's face for real!
|
The flow gets cracked, as it came in capsules
|
Your cap just started snapping
|
My starter caps was snapping when cross color was cracking
|
And my cane was half full.
|
With the half moon park, hope you rap dudes smart
|
Don't piss me off like the bathroom mop
|
You don't want it with me!
|
If I'm throwing hooks at you, that don't mean the chorus for free.
|
So save your jabs its way better
|
If I start throwing jabs,
|
I'm talking Zabs first three round against May weather
|
Yeah I'm a crook from the brook that mastered how'
|
Shook turned notebook, broke cook, I'm so dope look
|
Bring the beat back with no hook just bars
|
Just a thing of ours that make their pants drop,
|
Make 'em open up their bras, move G strings like guitars,
|
That's nothing, that's something light like wrestling at the bar!
|
Y.A.O.W.A, if y'all ain't saying yaowa by now you got nothing to say
|
This like NWO vs NWA,
|
y'all like the rockers verse the Roc full of nothing but J-s!
|
Check the rocks its nothing for gazing
|
But don't get stupid, my ' clique will throw shots for a couple of days
|
Make it horny when we out,
|
'horror, y'all don't want it with the house!
|
|
Yo, yo, slaughter season, y'all the reason
|
Real dudes I'm bringing some mo in,
|
Like a Polynesian
|
Sick with the llama squeezing,
|
Bullets flew and the chopper sneezing.
|
Got your body and legs torn, but before you was airborne
|
You was Bob and weaving
|
Still getting hit till your no's is '
|
They set you deep in your coffin sleeping
|
I'm gone off the deep end,
|
I'm a wolf, this industry my sheep skin.
|
I'm out here hunting with my ink pen,
|
I'm living like a kingpin!
|
Doing it for my g's in the pen,
|
Dreaming about two-piecing a police chief's chin
|
You rappers something candy coated, I don't like suckers
|
I'm iron mike, I don't like busters
|
You looking for 'em fly dudes like Orville and Wilbur
|
You got the right brothers, no bright jeans, no bright colors, no!
|
I'm the second coming, the one that Pac predicted
|
Islamic Gnostic and Christian, the flow so godly you got to listen!
|
I back you in I dodge 'em in it
|
Like MC8 in a L.A. hat
|
These rappers straight trying dodge a menace.
|
I'm looking at your videos, look like your watching tennis
|
Brothers dressed like Maria Sharapova wearing yoga pants
|
Meanwhile Big Poppa was rocking linens.
|
I guess that era's over man, hold on!
|
I'm splitting atoms when the scientific spitting is getting at 'em
|
I give 'em different patterns,
|
They didn't phantom, they're stealing my styles!
|
Before me you didn't have 'em
|
You rappers made in my image like when God was inventing Adam.
|
Stab 'em in the abdomen when its crunch time
|
I truly flip like May weather pissed of at a movie script.
|
Too many punch lines!
|
Family I'm amongst mine!
|
I keep the peace like a monks mind
|
' your favorite barber
|
Leave you in an old bush like an unshaven Barbara.
|
Don't stop what we doing,
|
When you see L.A. your team will be ruined!
|
This game need a new villain,
|
I'm the kind to murder you on vine
|
Uh, kill 'em!
|
|
Ladies and gentleman, now introducing
|
The man beneath the legend
|
Mr. Marshall man, aka, Slim Shady!
|
|
Yo! Role model?
|
I'll roll a model down a hill over broke bottles of coke products
|
If she don't swallow, and' till the bumper hit the throttle
|
While I'm trying hit the pot holes,
|
I'll freaking take Madonna to McDonalds!
|
Any' end up horizontal getting fondle,
|
I don't cuddle, I don't coddle!
|
Only motto that I follow
|
Is any thing I drive, whether its a Navajo or a Tahoe
|
It's got a ho in it, nah ho,
|
I don't got no freaking bronco!
|
You looking for a buck, get a horse, '
|
I got a rusty Hondo with some bondo,
|
And a box of condoms you little blond '
|
Fuck me? fuck you too!
|
Like I'm at Bonnaroo booing Bono
|
And I ain't from this planet so '
|
I'm intolerable, too volatile,
|
Screw it! I don't got too make honor roll
|
To be on a roll, I don't know much,
|
What I do know I do it pronto, though!
|
So knock it off, all these knock off me's,
|
The last thing the world needs is another me,
|
But if you think this is part two
|
To recovery or love the way you lie part twelve
|
Or something heart felt, you bout to make a discovery,
|
Like you found Christopher Columbus' compass
|
And dumb it down for you dumb fucks, so suck it
|
I took your best punch line like a punch in the stomach
|
That punctured a lung punk and I'm still functioning from it
|
Chump it was nothing, now watch while I fucking one up it and toot my own horn
|
Once I think its something to trump it
|
And I don't need a fucking instrument to sound off,
|
Like the trunk of an elephant to triumphant
|
Return of the ether spitting retard, reborn,
|
But chances of you having another re-birth, slim to none
|
Like a skinny Mother Theresa,
|
Give a fuck if its Easter,
|
So kiss my '
|
Cause that's the only thing ill turn the other cheek for!
|
|
-----------------
|
The Backroom Freestyle
|
| Eminem |
