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