The Ringer

Eminem

    Continúa después del anuncio

    Yo
    Yo, I'm just gonna write down my first thoughts
    And see where this takes me
    'Cause I feel like I wanna punch the world in the fuckin' face right now

    Yeah, let me explain just how to make greatness
    Straight out the gate, I'm 'bout to break you down
    Ain't no mistakes allowed, but make no mistake I'm 'bout
    To rape the alphabet, I may raise some brows
    If I press the issue just to get the anger out (blllt)
    Full magazine could take staples out
    Savage but ain't thinking 'bout no bank account
    But bitch I'm off the chain like Kala Brown
    Motherfucker, shut the fuck up when I'm talkin', lil' bitch
    I'm sorry, wait, what's your talent? Oh, critiquin'
    My talent? Oh, bitch I don't know who the fuck y'all are
    To give a sub-par bar
    Even have an opinion if you, you mention me
    Millions of views, attention the news
    I mention you, lose-lose for me, win-win for you
    Billions of views, your ten cents are two
    Skim through the music to give a shit reviews
    To get clicks, but bitch, you just lit the fuse
    Don't get misconstrued, business as us'
    Shit-list renewed, so get shit to do
    Or get dissed 'cause I just don't get
    What the fuck half the shit is that you're listening to
    Do you have any idea how much I hate this choppy flow
    Everyone copies though? Probably no
    Get this fuckin' audio out my audio, adiós
    I can see why people like Lil Yachty, but not me though
    Not even dissin', it just ain't for me
    All I am simply is just an emcee
    Maybe Stan just isn't your cup of tea
    Maybe your cup's full of syrup and lean
    Maybe I need to stir up shit
    Preferably shake the world up if it were up to me
    Paul wants me to chill, y'all want me to ill
    I should eat a pill, probably I will
    Old me kill the new me, watch him bleed to death
    I breathe on the mirror, I don't see my breath
    Possibly I'm dead, I must be possessed
    Like an evil spell, I'm E-V-I-L (evil, spelled)
    Jam a Crest white strip in the tip of my dick with an ice pick
    Stick it in a vice grip, hang it on a spike fence
    Bang it like a pipe bench
    While I take my ballsack and flick it like a light switch
    Like vice-president Mike Pence
    Back up on my shit in a sidekick as I lay it on a spike strip
    This are things that I'd rather do than hear you on a mic
    Since nine tenths of your rhyme is about ice and
    Jesus Christ man
    How many times is someone gonna fuck on my bitch? (Fuck my side chick!)

    You will never see M icy, but as cold as I get on the MIC
    I polarize shit so the Thames might freeze
    And your skull might split like I bashed you upside it
    Bitch I got the club on smash like a nightstick (yeah)
    Turn down for what? I ain't loud enough
    Nah, turn the Valium up
    'Cause I don't know how I'm gonna get your mouths to shut now
    When it doesn't matter what caliber I spit at
    I'll bet a hundred thousand bucks you'll just turn around and just be like
    Man, how the fuck sourpuss gonna get mad
    Just 'cause his album sucks and now he wants to take it out on us? (Ooh)
    But last week, an ex-fan mailed me a copy of the Mathers LP to tell me to study
    It'll help me get back to myself and she'll love me
    I mailed the bitch back and said if I did that
    I'd just be like everyone else in the fucking industry
    Especially an effing Recovery clone of me
    So finger-bang, chicken wang, MGK, Iggy ‘zae
    Lil Pump, Lil Xan imitate Lil Wayne
    I should aim at everybody in the game, pick a name
    I'm fed up with being humble
    And rumor is I'm hungry
    I'm sure you heard bumblings
    I heard you wanna rumble like an empty stomach
    I heard your mumbling but it's jumbled in mumbo-jumbo
    The era that I'm from will pummel you
    That's what it's comin' to
    What the fuck are you gonna do, where you runnin' to?
    I'm gonna crumble you and I'll take a number two
    And dump on you if you ain't Joyner
    If you ain't Kendrick or Cole
    Or Sean then you're a goner

    Continúa después del anuncio

    I'm 'bout to bring it to anyone in this bitch who want it
    I guess when you walk into BK, you expect a Whopper
    You can order a quarter pounder when you go to McDonald's
    But if you're lookin' to get a porterhouse you better go get Revival
    But y'all are acting like I tried to serve you up a slider
    Maybe the vocals should have been auto-tuned and you would have bought it
    But sayin' I no longer got it 'cause you missed the line and never caught it
    'Cause it went over your head, because you're too stupid to get it
    'Cause you're mentally retarded but pretend to be the smartest
    With your expertise and knowledge, but you'll never be an artist
    And I'm harder on myself than you could ever be, regardless
    What I'll never be is flawless, all I'll ever be is honest
    Even when I'm gone they're gonna say I brought it
    Even when I hit my forties like a fuckin' alcoholic
    With a bottle full of malt liquor
    But I couldn't bottle this shit any longer
    The fact that I know that I'ma hit my bottom if I don't
    Pull myself from the jaws of defeat
    And rise to my feet
    I don't see why y'all even started with me
    I get impeached
    My enemies die
    I don't ceasefire till at least all are deceased
    I'm eastside, never be caught slippin'
    Now you see why I don't sleep
    Not even a wink, I don't blink
    I don't doze off, I don't even nod to the beats
    I don't even close my fuckin' eyes when I sneeze

    Aw, man!
    That BET cypher was weak, it was garbage
    The Thing ain't even orange
    Oh my God, that's a reach
    Shout to all my colorblind people
    Each and every one of y'all
    If you call a fire engine green, aquamarine
    Or you think water is pink
    Dawg, that's a date
    Looks like an olive to me
    Look, there's an apple
    No it's not, it's a peach!
    So finger-bang, Pootie Tang, Burger King, Gucci Gang, Dookie Dang
    Charlamagne gonna hate anyway
    Doesn't matter what I say
    Give me Donkey of the Day
    What a way for 2018 to get underway
    But I'm gonna say everything that I wanna say
    Welcome to the slaughterhouse, bitch! (Yeah)
    Invite them in like a one a day
    I'm not done (preach)
    'Cause I feel like the beast of burden
    That line in the sand, was it even worth it?
    'Cause the way I see people turnin'
    Is makin' it seem worthless
    It's startin' to defeat the purpose
    I'm watchin' my fan base shrink to thirds
    And I was just trying to do the right thing, but word
    Has the court of public opinion reached a verdict
    Or still yet to be determined?
    'Cause I'm determined to be me, critique the worship
    But if I could go back, I'd at least reword it
    And say I empathize with the people this evil serpent sold the dream to
    That he's deserted
    But I think it's workin'

    These verses are makin' him a wee bit nervous
    And he's too scared to answer me with words
    'Cause he knows that he will lyrically get murdered
    But I know at least he's heard it
    'Cause Agent Orange just sent the Secret Service
    To meet in person
    To see if I really think of hurtin' him
    Or ask if I'm linked to terrorists
    I said: Only when it comes to ink and lyricists
    But my beef is more media journalists
    (Hold up, hold up, hold up)
    I said my beef is more meaty, a journalist
    They can get a mouthful of flesh
    And yes, I mean eating a penis
    'Cause they been panning my album to death
    So I been giving the media fingers
    Don't wanna turn this to a counselling sesh
    But they been puttin' me through the ringer
    So I ain't ironin' shit out with the press
    But I just took this beat to the cleaners

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Eminem, Luis Edgardo Resto, Illa, U-Dub, J Ronny y Young M A

    ¿Los datos están equivocados?

    Enviar revisión