Chloraseptic [Remix]

EminemEminem 

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Eminem

Marshall Bruce Mathers III (born October 17, 1972), known professionally as Eminem (/ˌɛmɪˈnɛm/; often stylized as EMINƎM), is an American rapper, songwriter, record producer, record executive, and actor. He is consistently cited as one of the greatest and most influential artists of all time in any genre, with Rolling Stone ranking him 83rd on its list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time and labelling him the "King of Hip Hop". He will often be called " Slim Shady" at times. He has gotten into quite some rap battles against MGK, ( Machine Gun Kelly) Snoop Dog, etc. more »

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2 Chainz!
Yeah, yeah

Take 'em to church, I'm talkin' the tabernacle
It's the return of the body snatcher
Walk in the spot, make my woman smack ya (whoo!)
In a fruit fight, I aim at your Adam's apple
Pull up in the candy car, eatin' a candy bar
And my girl eatin' a candy apple
Yeah, I line their ass up, I aim at their Cruiser
All of these stones on my neck, uh
They must have looked at Medusa
Pockets Rasputia of course
I drove some rims to court
I fucked some twins before
I had a Benz before, this is the sin report
This is the murder, murder, pass the burner, Em
Your money shorter than an acronym
Big body when I'm backin' in
Ladi-dadi, got a bunch of bodies
Niggas fakin', niggas human traffickin' (whoo!)
I'm on the Ac' again, uh
This ain't a accident, uh
King like Ak-Ron
I run the trap again, you on the treadmill (treadmill)
Never, Neverland, shit came with a Ferris wheel (goddamn!)
Ferris day off, baby, AR in the same car
Most of y'all my sons, aww, look at little JR
F12 same color Kate Moss
Uh, I'm talkin' wrist in the pot
I'm talkin' this and you not
I'm talkin' bricks and you not
I'm talkin' straight up and down, nigga, like 6 o'clock
This is the equinox, this what the people want
Somebody at the door, I heard the speaker knock, uh

I'm at your throat like Chloraseptic, 'septic
And you got strep, I'm too complex with, 'plex with
This shit I wrote is on some next shit, next shit
I'm at your throat, I'm feelin' reckless, reckless, yeah

Do me a favor, don't do me no favors
These bitches got flavors
They all wanna smoke but ain't doin' no labor
But they shoppin' at Raleys, they stingin' like tasers
Act Hollywood like they play for the Lakers
They fly on the latest
Crocs, alligators, say hi to my haters
Pardon my neighbor
We eatin' that chicken, lobster, potatoes
You must be sniffin' that yayo
If you don't think I'm that nigga
Swagger on ten since a day old
It's a-okay though, whippin' up whip like it's mayo
Every track is a K.O., technical K.O.
Go off your head like I'm Ayo
Out of this world, talkin' NATO
It's 'cause of jail, don't be an A-hole
'Cause I got shooters that shoot when I say so (lay low!)
Wanna be in my shoes, you ain't paid no dues
Real nigga, you ain't break no rules (hell yeah!)
High school, niggas ate yo' food
Might dumb it down a little, but I ain't no fool (hell yeah!)
Niggas hate every day, B (yeah)
Shit is O.C. lately (yeah)
Gotta break 'em off with these Dre beats (yeah)
Or I might go crazy (hell yeah!)
These niggas too goddamn lazy (too lazy)
Don't ever, ever, ever try to play me (to play me)
Lil' shawty know a nigga from BK (BK)
But I'm tryna come up like JAY-Z (like JAY-Z)
Nothin' but love from my heart (love from my heart)
I feel entitled to titles (to titles)
F*ck it, man, I want the title (I want the title)
Submission, they goin' all viral

I'm at your throat like Chloraseptic, 'septic
And you got strep, I'm too complex with, 'plex with
This shit I wrote is on some next shit, next shit
I'm at your throat, I'm feelin' reckless, reckless, yeah

Bin Laden with a pen, bodyin' again
I begin slaughterin' your men, prolly shoulda been
Ali or the Svengali embodiment of sin
Like a Saudi and the Taliban plotting an event
In the lobby of the Intercontinental with an obvious intent
And I would not even relent
Up on a little like Osama with a bomb under the bin
And down the middle of the Pentagon
And hit a kindergartener with a rental (stop!)
Back and forth, back and forth
Like Jack Kevorkian's ass to court
"Rap mature! Why can't you be like Macklemore?" (huh?)
"Why you always gotta smack a whore?" (huh?)
It's likely the psychiatric ward's a last resort (huh?)
Something's gotta give, that's for sure
Yet you keep comin' back for more
Not as raw as I was, "'Walk On Water' sucks"
Bitch, suck my dick!
Y'all saw the tracklist and had a fit 'fore you heard it
So you formed your verdict
While you sat with your arms crossed
Did your little reaction videos and talked over songs (chill!)
Nah dog, y'all sayin' I lost it?
Your fuckin' marbles are gone (wait, Em!)
But nowadays, every flow, every cadence sound the same (skrrt)
Brain's a powder keg, I draw inspiration outta hate
Real pain in the paper, I don't trace
But if I look strange and outta place
It's 'cause I'm an alien, that's why I write 'til the page is outta space
Yeah, from 7 Mile in Novara
To "How can I be down?", all of us tryna pile in the car (yeah!)
We shot for the stars (yeah!)
'Cause we only got so much time in this world (yeah!)
So rewind it to your high school dance to the night before
If you think you're promised tomorrow (yeah!)
Now I'm 'bout to fool again
This tune is sick, it's luminous, the moon is lit
A freakin' lunatic, a human computer chip
And I'm soon to stick a broom in the uterus of your Hooters chick
If I was you, I wouldn't do nothin' stupid due to the mood I'm in
I'm losin' it, you get chewed like a Junior Mint
Show me who to rip, it's time for you to get screwed
Empty the lubricant and put super glue in it (woo!)
How many fuckin' rappers did I go through?
Dispel doubt, but you won't admit I smoked
And you was spellbound, hellbound in my snowsuit
But am I s'posed to sound like everything else out?
'Cause I don't get compared to it, only myself now
And I can see the fair-weather fans and sales down
But the only way I care is if I let myself down
But what the f*ck have I woke to?
Time to eat the vocals and shit out Pro Tools
I know you still want me to ill out, don't you?
Hopin' the old Slim's gonna spill out, open
Fire on your whole camp with this spit, I roast you
So chill out, no, you
Hoes couldn't roast me with the shit I wrote you
Then I took a stand, went at Tan-Face
And practically cut my motherfuckin' fan base in half and still outsold you
You just called my shit trash?
Thank God, I rap better when the odds are stacked
"Revival's wack, I don't like the 'Zombie' track
And when he's talkin' that garbage psychotic crap
Where's your content at?
What's with all the conscious rap?
P!nk, Beyoncé this and Kehlani that" (yeah!)
I just add it to the fuel in my rocket pack
'Til I'm ready to respond, then I'ma launch it at 'em
Idiotic from the fuckin' embryonic sac
To the body bag, I'll be back
And when I am, I'll be at your fuckin' throat like

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