[Intro] I own a mansion, but live in a house A king-size bed, but I sleep on the couch I'm Mr. Brightside, glass is half full But my tank is half empty, gas kit just blew
[Verse 1] This always happens, 30 minutes from home Gotta lay a long cable and only option I have is McDonald's bathroom In a public stall dropping a football So every time someone walks in the john like at Madden ''Shady, what up? ''- What? Come on, man, I'm crapping And you're asking me for my godamn autograph on a napkin? Oh, that's odd, I just happened to run out of tissue Yeah, hand me that, on second thought I'd be glad then ''Thanks, dawg, name's Todd, a big fan'' I wiped my ass with it, crumbled it up [?] back and Told him ''Todd, you're the shit'' when does all of this crap end? Can't park my [?] without causing an accident Puff my gas, cut my grass, can't take out the fucking trash Without someone passing through my sub harassing I'd count my blessings, but I suck at math I'd rather wallow then bass suffering from succotash But the [?] is my stomach as I mix my corn with my fucking mash Potato, so what, ho, kiss my country bucking ass Missouri Southern roots, what the fuck is up with glass? Call lunch dinner, call dinner supper Tupperware in a covered plastic wear up the ass Stuck in the past, iPod, what the fuck is that? B-boy to the core, mule, I'm a stubborn ass
[Hook] Maybe that's why I feel so strange Got it all, but I still won't change Maybe that's why I can't leave Detroit It's the motivation that keeps me going This is the inspiration I need I can never turn my back on a city that made me (Life's been good to me so far)
[Verse 2] They call me [?] , I heard that, I second and third that Don't know what the fuck I would doing if it weren't rap Probably be a giant turd-sack But I blew, never turned back Turned 40 and still sag Teenagers act more fucking mature, Jack Fuck you gonna say to me? I live on my own terms, asshole, I'm going berzerk My nerves are bad, but I love the perks my work has I get to meet famous people, look at her, dad Her eyeliners ran, her skirt snag And I heard she drag-races, burp* swag Fucking my Hanes shirt tag You're Danica Patrick (yeah) work, skag We'd be the perfect match Cause you're a vacuum, I'm a dirtbag My apologies, no disrespect to technology But what the heck is all of these buttons? You expect me to sit here and learn that? Fuck I gotta do to hear this new song from Luda? Be and expert at computers? I'd rather be an encyclopedia [?] Playstation I'm still on my first manual from Zelda Nintendo, bitch, run, jump, punch, stab and I melt the Mozzarella on my spaghetti, put in on bread Make a sandwich with [?] and belts They say it's [?] , but it's bad for my health But I think there's more white trash from the trailer [?] welfare mentality helps to keep me grounded that's why I never take full advantage of wealth I Managed to dwell within these perimeters still cramming the shells full of hamburger helper I can't even help it, this is the hand I was dealt to [?] a habit, feel like I'm trapped in an animal shelter With all these pet peeves Got dammit to hell I can't stand all these kids with their camera cellphones I can't go anywhere, I get so mad I can yell the Other day someone got little elaborate and stuck a fucking dead cat in my mailbox Went to Burger King, they spit on my onion rings I think my karma is catching up with me
[Hook] Maybe that's why I feel so strange Got it all, but I still won't change Maybe that's why I can't leave Detroit It's the motivation that keeps me going This is the inspiration I need I can never turn my back on a city that made me (Life's been good to me so far)
[Bridge] Got friends on facebook, all over the world Not sure what that means, they tell me it's good So I'm artist of the decade, I even got a plaque I'd hang it up, but the frame is all cracked
[Verse 3] Trying to be lowkey, hopefully nobody notices me [?] got punched over, giant nosebleed As I mosey over to the frozen isle By the frozen yogurt this guy approached me Embarrassed, I just did [?] America with Hova Show's over, I'm hiding in [?] buying groceries He had front row seats, told me to sign this poster Then insults me ''wow, up close didn't know you had gross feet'' Still shopping at Costco Sloppy Joe's, buck waffles Got caught picking my nose, ah Look over see these two hot hoes Finger still stuck up in one of my nostrils Right next to him stuck at the light This fucking shit is taking forever to change I'm stuck, these bitches are loving it rubbing it in Couldn't do nothing, play it off ''What you bumping? Trunk Muzik? Yelawolf's better'' fucking bitch They want me to flip at the label, but I won't succumb to it The pressure, they want me to follow up with another one after Recovery So highly coveted, but what good is a fucking recovery if I fumble it? Cause I'mma drop the ball if I don't get to quit On you sons of bitches
Quit snapping pictures of my fucking kids I love my [?] , but you push me to my limit, what a pity The shit I complain about It's like there ain't a cloud in the sky and it's raining out Kool Aid stain on the couch, I'd never get it out Bitch, I got an elevator in my house [?] I'm living the dream
[Hook]
Confirmação de Idade
Esta letra possui restrição de idade, você deve ter mais que 18 anos para acessá-la.
Compositores: Jesse Bonds Weaver Jr (Schoolly D) (BMI), Joseph Fidler Walsh (Joe Walsh) (PRS), Marshall B Mathers Iii (Eminem) (BMI)Editores: Concord Copyrights Uk (PRS), Mca Music Ltd (PRS), Wow and Flutter MusicAdministração: Keyboard Music Ltd (PRS)Publicado em 2013ECAD verificado obra #10846907 e fonograma #5985853 em 13/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM