Son, you know why you the greatest alive? Why, Dad? Because you came out of my balls, nigga Hahahaha Fuck rap, bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back Hold up, catch a vibe, ain't no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive Leave a suicide note, fuck that Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this I'm comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby I'm feelin' like I'm chicka-chicka-chicka Slim Shady with rabies I'm foamin' at the mouth, ain't nobody takin' me out Every single rapper in the industry, yeah, they know what I'm about And I dare you to test me 'Cause not a single one of you motherfuckers impress me And maybe that's a little bit of an exaggeration, but I'm full of innovation And I'm tired of all of this high school, "He's cool, he's not" rap shit Can a single one of you motherfuckers even rap? Shit No, this ain't a diss to the game, it's a gas to the flame Nowadays, everybody sound the same, shit's lame Like a moth to the flame, I'ma reel 'em in and kill 'em Know you feelin' lyricism when I'm spillin' it, I'm feelin' myself Yeah, yeah, Bobby Boy, he be feelin' himself Mass murder like this can't be good for my health When I rap like this, do I sound like shit? Well, it don't really matter, 'cause I'm killin' this shit Yeah, I'm killin' this shit Oh yeah, oh yeah, I'm killin' this shit Bobby, how many times you been killin' this shit? Find another rhyme, goddamn, nigga, shit Fuck rap, bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back Hold up, catch a vibe, ain't no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive Leave a suicide note, fuck that Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this I'm comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby I'm feelin' like I'm chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka Slim Shady There's nowhere to hide, we call this shit genocide Hit 'em with that (doot, doot, doot) and they die We gon' leave 'em crucified, we call this shit genocide I got bitches, I got hoes, I got rare designer clothes No, we ain't fuckin' with that Yeah, there's a time and a place, but if you ain't comin' with the illest of raps Callin' yourself the greatest alive Then you don't deserve to do that No, no, oh no, no, please do not do that You gon' get smacked, you gon' make Bobby attack You gon' make Bobby Boy snap You gon' make Bobby Boy snap (Bobby Boy!) Fuck rap, bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back Hold up, catch a vibe, ain't no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive Leave a suicide note, fuck that Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this I'm comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby I'm feelin' like I'm chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka Slim Shady Jigga-jigga-jigga-jigga-jigga like Jay-Z Jig is up, you fuckers who didn't write anything Are getting washed now, chicka-chicka-chicka, like bathing Young Hova, I know hitters like Yankees Gun toters that pull triggers like crazy Unloadin', leave you shot up in your Rover Your body goes limp and slumps over Like A-Rod in a month lull, but he just homered Hold up, I said Rover because now your Rover is red Like Red Rover, so you know what I meant But I roll over my opponents instead Makin' dog sounds 'cause I gotta keep breakin' these bars down I'll go slow for the speds But when I go (roof) like the doberman said I still think the (roof) would go over your head (haha) Beast mode, motherfuckers 'bout to get hit with so many foul lines You think I'm a free throw Figured it was about time for people to eat crow You about to get out-rhymed, how could I be dethroned? I stay on my toes like the repo, a behemoth in sheep clothes From the East Coast to the West, I'm the ethos and I'm the G.O.A.T Who the best? I don't gotta say a fuckin' thing, though, 'cause MC's know But you don't wanna hear me spit the facts Your shit is ass like a tailbone And you're trapped in your cell phone On my chicken scratch, or my self-loathe I don't want to fuckin' listen to you spit your rap someone else wrote Used to get beat up by the big kids Used to let the big kids steal my big wheel And I wouldn't do shit but just sit still Now money's not a big deal I'm rich, I wipe my ass with six mil' Big bills like a platypus A caterpillar's comin' to get the cannabis I'm lookin' for the smoke but you motherfuckers are scatterin' Batterin' everything and I've had it with the inadequate Man, I can see my dick is standin' stiff as a mannequin And I'm bringin' the bandana back, and the fuckin' headband again A handkerchief and I'm thinkin' of bringin' the fuckin' fingerless gloves back And not giving a singular fuck, like fuck rap I sound like a fuckin' millionaire With the Derringer with a hair trigger 'Bout to bear hug it, fuckin' terrier, the Ric Flair dripper Y'all couldn't hold a candle at a prayer vigil When I vent, they compare me to a fuckin' air duct I'm about to bare knuckle it, nah, fuck it I'm gonna go upside their head with a Nantucket, abraca-fuckin'-dabra The track is the blood, I'm attracted, I'm attackin' it What? Dracula, fuck that shit I'm up, back with a thud Man, stop Look what I'm plannin', plannin', I'm plannin' to Do all this while you panickin' And you're lookin' and starin' at mannequins
![logic - homicide (eminem) [slowed & reverb]](/img/logo.svg){kind=logo}
