[Untitled Hidden Track] [*]
Nah, man, not quite finished yet Haha, woo! Girl, I think you just might've tried To pull a motherf*ckin' fast one, I'm mad You just hurt my goddamn feeling and that was the last one I had Does this look like an arcade? Tryna play games? See this saw blade? See this silhouette of a stalker in your walkway? Better cooperate or get sauteed And rotisseried while you're hog-tied MC's get so quiet You can hear a motherf*ckin' dog whistle when I walk by Colt Seavers on a mule, stuntin' on that ass like the f*ckin' Fall Guy I don't gas my Mercedes after midnight, I treat it like a Mogwai 'Cause it will turn into a Gremlin And run over kids, women, and men, vrin vrin! Motor so big, you can fit a midget in his engine Bitch, give me them digits, why you cringin'? Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin Will I spend-spend even ten cents on you, since when Do you think it's gonna cost me a pretty penny? Shit, if I think a penny's pretty Just imagine how beautiful a quarter is to me Eenie-meenie-miney-mo Catch an Eskimo by his toe while he's tryin' to roll a snowball But don't make him lose his cool If he hollers, better let him go, y'all 'Cause (You don't own me) Now here we go, go, go Get up, baby, get a move on like a U-Haul You can rack your brain like pool balls You won't ever think of this shit, yeah, honey, you called? Well, here I come, Havoc on the beat, I wreak it Evil, I see, hear, and speak it Lady, put your money on Shady, f*ck that other weak shit Put your eggs in the same basket You can count every motherf*ckin' chicken 'fore it hatches 'Cause you can bet your ass that we gonna get it crackin' Like the Kraken and Titans when they're clashin' Get your brains bashed in So bad, you're gonna have Kurt Cobain askin' To autograph a bloodstained napkin Unfashionable, and 'bout as rational as a rash on a fag's asshole Now let's take that line, run it up the flagpole With Elton, see if he's cool with it Don't stand there and look stupid at me Bitch, I ain't in the mood for this shit Get my dick, Google it 'til it pops up Y'all are so motherf*ckin' full of shit that you stopped up Me, I'm always shittin' diarrhea of the mouth 'Til your speakers crap out pft, huh, what? Girl, you got a hot butt Like a lit cigarette (chig-chigga-ret-ret) But you won't get a hot fudge sundae from me So do not strut my way, slut, because– (You don't own me) Now here we go, go, go And now that I got your panties in a bunch And your bowels in an uproar I'ma show you why I came, so you stop askin' me what the f*ck for Now look you little slut, cunt, whore, I know you want more Bitch, it's time to put the math back into Mathers 'Cause I'm a f*ckin' problem, run, boy! Every flow, got it mastered So every last word that you f*ckin' fags heard Comes straight from the fish's ass Yeah, in other words, I'm a bass-turd Lookin' at me like I killed Kenny, gas in the tank, yeah, still plenty No morals are instilled in me, so remorse, I really don't feel any Eat your heart out, Hannibal, understandable why you're jealous F*ck an animal, I got cannibal magnetism Can't resist him now, can you, ho? "Shady, I don't understand your flow" Understand my flow? Bitch, I flow like Troy Polamalu's hair, boy Don't you dare try to follow or compare, boy I'm raw, you ain't even medium-rare Stay the f*ck outta my hair, boy You can look, you can stare, and point But you can't touch, I'm too clairvoyant I don't get it, man, is there a void? All this weak shit, what am I, steroids? Well, bitch, I'm back with some shit for that ass And your trunk, elephant hemorrhoids And remember, boys– (You don't own me) Now here we go, go, go Thank you for coming out Hope you enjoyed the show 'Til next time Haha, peace
Written by: Marshall Mathers, Kejuan Waliek Muchita, Michael Lewis Crawford, John Madara, David Ernest White
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind