Lyrics:
the plastic off it, you can feel the magic
Still I'm laughing at the critics talking, I can see 'em gagging
When I'm back in the back of my city, back in
the North Wind
Brought forth wind that made critics rave,
While Verdi turned round in his grave!
Couldn't hear the flute
Or the big trombone
Ev'ry one
thou' 'nother hunned thou'
Three hunned thou', five hunned thou'
A milli y'all let's have a money shower
Fit it, critic, get it, hit it, run it,
just doesn't matter
But it's either that or pay off the kidnapper
So all you critics sit alone
You're no better than me for what you've shown
With
and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
On the dead homies
Everybody want to talk about who this and who that
Who the realest and who wack, or who white or who black
Critics want to mention that
hit a pound of herbs I'm still nice with the verbs
So fuck what you heard
The born cipher, cipher master makes me think much faster
But critics still
forth wind that made critics rave
While Verdi turned 'round in his grave
Couldn't hear the flute
Or the big trombone
Every one was mute, Johnny stood
metamorphosis happen?
From standin' on corners and porches just rappin'
To havin' a fortune, no more kissin' ass
But then these critics crucify you,
five guy's named Moe, that's us!
When they start to beat it out,
everybody jumps and shouts,
tell me who the critics all rave about,
five guys
and bucket
Blue-collar scholars, who'll take your dollar and wipe my ass wit it
You livin' for the lotto, never hit it
I met a critic, I made her shit her
rumblings
My demeanor, thirty years my senior
My childhood didn't mean much, only raisin' green up
Raisin' my fingers to critics
Raisin' my head
and fuck you too
You think I give a damn about a Grammy?
Half of you critics can't even stomach me, let alone stand me
"But Slim, what if you win,
writers and critics
Who prophesies with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in
promised the fuckin' critics
I wouldn't say "fuckin'" for six minutes
(Six minutes, Slim Shady, you're on)
My baby's mom, bitch made me an angry blonde
know
Stepping on my critics, beating on my foes
The plan is to stay focused, only then I can grow
Straight from the heart, I represent hip hop
I be
a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics 'cause they're everywhere
They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves and we do
the oven on four hundred and eighty degrees
Hailey Jade, Daddy loves you, baby
Don't ever tell me how to raise my daughter, fuck you, lady
You critics
them don't worry
I'll be back to finish my reps
I don't care what all them critics are saying
I been to hell and back, I know the plan
When you
critics starting to mumble
Oh my God, I feel dead inside, feel like suicide
Gone too far to turn back, he said, "Boy, you tellin' lies"
It's deep inside
a magician, critics I turn to crickets
Got 'em still on the fence whether to pick it
But quick to get impaled when I tell 'em, "Stick it"
So sick, I'm
writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
To blow this like a trumpet you dumb shit
This is a unusual musical I conducting
You looking at the black Warren Buffett so all critics can duck sic
I
Pollinate they ear buds
Like you supposed to, spit it for the culture
Pay no attention to the critics and the vultures
They rather have a shot of Belvy
.jpg/220px-The_Backyard_(album).jpg "The Backyard Critics")
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