I can almost taste itThis shit makes no sense to meWhat does it all mean?I can almost taste itI can almost see itThis shit makes no sense to meWhat does it all mean?I can almost taste itI can almost taste itCan't stop nowThis might be the last chance I get to be famous(I just wanna be famous)You dream of trading placesI have been changing facesYou cannot fill these shoesThere is too much to loseWake up behind these trenchesYou run around defenselessThere is too much to loseYou cannot fill these shoesI just wanna be famous, butBe careful what you wish forI stuck my dick in this game like a rapistThey call me Slim RoethlisbergerI go berserker than a fed-up post office workerI murk her with a MossbergI'm pissed off, get murderedLike someone took a ketchup squirterSquirted a frankfurterFor a gangster, you sure did shit your pantsWhen you saw the chainsaw get to wavingLike a terrible towelHow thangs turn around when his fangs come outGet your brains blown outThat's what I call blowin' your mindWhen I come back, like nut on your spineI'm a thumb tack that you slept on, sonNow here I come, screaming "Attack! "Like I just stepped on oneLow on the totem 'til he showed 'em defianceGiant scrotumHe don't owe them bitches shitHis britches, he outgrowed 'emHe's so out coldHe's knocked out at the South PoleAnd nobody fucks with himRigor mortis and post mortemHe's dyin' of boredomTake your best rhymes, record 'emThen try to thwart himHe'll just take your punch lines and snort 'emShit-stained drawers, you gon' fuck with a guyWho licks the blades of his chainsawsWhile he dips 'em in P. F. Chang's sauce?Game's up, homieHang it up like some crank callsYou think I'm backin' down?You must be out of your dang skullsI'm almost famousYou dream of trading placesI have been changing facesYou cannot fill these shoesThere is too much to loseWake up behind these trenchesYou run around defenselessThere is too much to loseYou cannot fill these shoesI just wanna be famous, butBe careful what you wish forI'm back for revengeI lost a battle, that ain't happenin' againI'm at your throat like strepI step, strapped with a penMetaphors wrote on my handSome are just stored in my memorySome I wrote on a napkinI do what I have to to winPullin' out all stopsAny who touch a mic prior'sNot even Austin PowersHow the fuck are they Mike Myers?And tell that psycho to pass the torch to the wacko'Fore I take a shit in his Jack-O-LanternAnd smash it on his porchNow get off my dick!'Dick''s too short of a word for my dickGet off my antidisestablishmentarianism, you prick!Don't call me the ChampCall me the Space Shuttle DestroyerI just blew up the ChallengerMatter fact, I need a lawyerI just laced my gloves withEnough plaster to make a castBeat his ass nakedAnd peed in his corner like Verne TroyerY'all are Eminem backwards: you're Mini MesSee, he's in a whole nother weight classHe's slugs, you're BBs: you're bean-bag bulletsYou're full of itYou were dissin' his CD's, laughed at InfiniteNow he's back like someone pissed in his wheatiesNo peace treaties, he's turned into a beastHis new Slim Shady EP'sGot the attention of the mighty D. R. EHe's almost famousYou dream of trading placesI have been changing facesYou cannot fill these shoesThere is too much to loseWake up behind these trenchesYou run around defenselessThere is too much to loseYou cannot fill these shoesI just wanna be famous, butBe careful what you wish forNow there he goes in Dre's studioCuppin' his ballsScreamin' the wood off the panelin'Cussin' the paint off the wallsSpewin' his hate to these hatersShowin' no love for these broadsHe ain't givin' them shitHe says he'll pinch a penny so hardHe'll leave a bruise on the bronze so darkYou can see the markWith the scars, 'til Abraham Lincoln is screamin' out, "Ahh! "These metaphors and similes ain't similar to themNot at allIf they don't like it, they can all get fuckedInstead of suckin' him offThey can go get a belt or a neck tie to hang themselves byLike David CarradineThey can go fuck themselves and just dieAnd eat shit while they at it, he's fuckin' had itHe's mad at the whole worldSo go to hell and build a snowman, girlThe bullies become bulliedAnd pussies get pushedThen they better pull meTake me back to 9th grade to school me'Cause I ain't lookin' back, only forwardThis whole spot blowin'Who coulda known he'd grow to be a poet and not know it?And while I'm bein' poeticLet me get it stoic and raise the barHigher than my opinionOf these women's been loweredSo bear witness to some biblical shitThere's a cold wind blowin'This world ain't gonna know what hit itHe did it, he made it, he's finally famous
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I can almost taste it
This shit makes no sense to me
What does it all mean?
I can almost taste it
I can almost see it
This shit makes no sense to me
What does it all mean?
I can almost taste it
I can almost taste it
Can't stop now
This might be the last chance I get to be famous
(I just wanna be famous)
You dream of trading places
I have been changing faces
You cannot fill these shoes
There is too much to lose
Wake up behind these trenches
You run around defenseless
There is too much to lose
You cannot fill these shoes
I just wanna be famous, but
Be careful what you wish for
I stuck my dick in this game like a rapist
They call me Slim Roethlisberger
I go berserker than a fed-up post office worker
I murk her with a Mossberg
I'm pissed off, get murdered
Like someone took a ketchup squirter
Squirted a frankfurter
For a gangster, you sure did shit your pants
When you saw the chainsaw get to waving
Like a terrible towel
How thangs turn around when his fangs come out
Get your brains blown out
That's what I call blowin' your mind
When I come back, like nut on your spine
I'm a thumb tack that you slept on, son
Now here I come, screaming "Attack! "
Like I just stepped on one
Low on the totem 'til he showed 'em defiance
Giant scrotum
He don't owe them bitches shit
His britches, he outgrowed 'em
He's so out cold
He's knocked out at the South Pole
And nobody fucks with him
Rigor mortis and post mortem
He's dyin' of boredom
Take your best rhymes, record 'em
Then try to thwart him
He'll just take your punch lines and snort 'em
Shit-stained drawers, you gon' fuck with a guy
Who licks the blades of his chainsaws
While he dips 'em in P. F. Chang's sauce?
Game's up, homie
Hang it up like some crank calls
You think I'm backin' down?
You must be out of your dang skulls
I'm almost famous
You dream of trading places
I have been changing faces
You cannot fill these shoes
There is too much to lose
Wake up behind these trenches
You run around defenseless
There is too much to lose
You cannot fill these shoes
I just wanna be famous, but
Be careful what you wish for
I'm back for revenge
I lost a battle, that ain't happenin' again
I'm at your throat like strep
I step, strapped with a pen
Metaphors wrote on my hand
Some are just stored in my memory
Some I wrote on a napkin
I do what I have to to win
Pullin' out all stops
Any who touch a mic prior's
Not even Austin Powers
How the fuck are they Mike Myers?
And tell that psycho to pass the torch to the wacko
'Fore I take a shit in his Jack-O-Lantern
And smash it on his porch
Now get off my dick!
'Dick''s too short of a word for my dick
Get off my antidisestablishmentarianism, you prick!
Don't call me the Champ
Call me the Space Shuttle Destroyer
I just blew up the Challenger
Matter fact, I need a lawyer
I just laced my gloves with
Enough plaster to make a cast
Beat his ass naked
And peed in his corner like Verne Troyer
Y'all are Eminem backwards: you're Mini Mes
See, he's in a whole nother weight class
He's slugs, you're BBs: you're bean-bag bullets
You're full of it
You were dissin' his CD's, laughed at Infinite
Now he's back like someone pissed in his wheaties
No peace treaties, he's turned into a beast
His new Slim Shady EP's
Got the attention of the mighty D. R. E
He's almost famous
You dream of trading places
I have been changing faces
You cannot fill these shoes
There is too much to lose
Wake up behind these trenches
You run around defenseless
There is too much to lose
You cannot fill these shoes
I just wanna be famous, but
Be careful what you wish for
Now there he goes in Dre's studio
Cuppin' his balls
Screamin' the wood off the panelin'
Cussin' the paint off the walls
Spewin' his hate to these haters
Showin' no love for these broads
He ain't givin' them shit
He says he'll pinch a penny so hard
He'll leave a bruise on the bronze so dark
You can see the mark
With the scars, 'til Abraham Lincoln is screamin' out, "Ahh! "
These metaphors and similes ain't similar to them
Not at all
If they don't like it, they can all get fucked
Instead of suckin' him off
They can go get a belt or a neck tie to hang themselves by
Like David Carradine
They can go fuck themselves and just die
And eat shit while they at it, he's fuckin' had it
He's mad at the whole world
So go to hell and build a snowman, girl
The bullies become bullied
And pussies get pushed
Then they better pull me
Take me back to 9th grade to school me
'Cause I ain't lookin' back, only forward
This whole spot blowin'
Who coulda known he'd grow to be a poet and not know it?
And while I'm bein' poetic
Let me get it stoic and raise the bar
Higher than my opinion
Of these women's been lowered
So bear witness to some biblical shit
There's a cold wind blowin'
This world ain't gonna know what hit it
He did it, he made it, he's finally famous
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