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Eminem - Em360 Rapcity Backroom Freestyle (Feat. Slaughterhouse)

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[Verse 1: Joe Budden]

I'm the realest mo'fucker that I know
Wasn't always the case guess the figure had to grow
I do it for the love I don't do it for the dough
But I know these sucker figures will so they keep me on my toes
What's sad is I couldn't tell you what I'm hated for
And them painkillers didn't murder the pain they gave me more
These fans on my head now they say they want the old Joe
I grew up mature y'all can't see that this the old Joe
Want to see me lose every battle of 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
Sendin' unsolicited dick pics to dimwitted thick chicks
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 makin 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

[Verse 2: Royce da 5'9]

Its Nickle, riding round in that Maserati four seat
Symbol on the grill looking like Tony Stark's goatee
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
Hip hop is alive, but the rhymes died
Only fear I have is "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 artiste
I'm outlining everybody in chalk white
The off-beat deceased version of Dr. Narcisse
This ain't blueprint, your idolizing
You tryna jump fast that's foolish of you in 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 its back and forth, the black one or white one I call 'em Macklemore
And Lord Jamar, first we defyin' 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 cypher two times already
What you gon' give us an award?
But we won't stop for shutting down the internet
Now tell ya momma hi, and tell Rihanna we ain't finished yet

[Verse 3: Joell Ortiz]

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 yank' 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 mommas 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 mommas 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 Mayweather
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 [?] 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 Jays
Check the rocks its nothing fugaz'
But don't get stupid my cupid clique will throw shots for a couple of days
Make it horny when we out, Amityville horror, y'all don't want it with the house

[Verse 4: Crooked I]

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 nos' is weazing
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 Wright brothers, no bright jeans, no bright colours
I'm the second coming, the one that Pac predicted
Islamic and Christian,the flow so godly you got to listen
I backed you in a dodge (?) like MC Eiht in a L.A. hat
These rappers straight tryna 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 fathom, they 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 Mayweather pissed of at a movie script
Too many punchlines, family I'm amongst mine
I keep the peace like a monks mind
(?) fade 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
Ooohh kill em'

[Verse 5: Eminem]

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 tryna hit the pot holes, ill freaking take Madonna to Mcdonalds
Any (?) end up horizontal gett'n fondle, I don't cuddle, I don't coddle
Only motto that I follows any thing I drive, whether its a Navajo or a Tahoe
Its got a ho in it, nah ho, I don't got no freaking bronco
You looking for a buck, get a horse, fuck Tonto
I got a rusty Hondo with a bondo, and a box of condoms you little blond ho
Fuck me? fuck you too, like I'm at Bonnaroo booing Bono
And I ain't from this planet so nanu, nana, nanu
I'm untolerable, 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 2 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 punchline 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 fuckin' 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 keister
Cus that's the only thing ill turn the other cheek for

 

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Autor tekstu:

Eminem, Slaughterhouse

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Rok wydania:

2013

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1 971 468 tekstów, 18 106 poszukiwanych i 541 oczekujących

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