| [Eminem:] |
| Instinctive nature, to bring the anguish (yeah) to the English language |
| With this ink, you haters get wrote on like a piece of paper |
| This rap shit got me travelin' place to place, you barely leave your house |
| 'Cause you're always stuck at your pad, it's stationary |
| Yeah, that's why when I brainstorm, gotta write it out |
| Simon Cowell's rhymin' foul, that's why you sound so shook |
| Why your bound notebook got tied around your throat |
| Hook it inside your mouth, go... |
| That's what it's like when the mic is out |
| 'Cause I'm tearin' at your fleshful dead |
| 'Til your larynx and neck are split |
| With these lyrics, weapons expert with |
| Like hair extensions, extra clips |
| And you're scared to effin' death of it |
| Bitch, you're starin' at a legend that |
| In a pair of Sketcher, sweatshirt ripped |
| And hoodie black, should be strapped to a chair or stretcher |
| Electric, swear on every record, bitch |
| Finger so high in the air, I bet your senses flip |
| Like a barometric pressure switch |
| Carin' less who I offend with this |
| I'm at your neck like Pez dispense |
| Go 'head, spit your flow, bitch... |
| [Eminem:] |
| Yeah, uh |
| And still conjoined at the hip with hop |
| Still on point and poignant |
| Skilled as Floyd is |
| And it's filled and still no filter, boy |
| I'll put you in your place (yeah) like a realtor, boy |
| You still ain't in the buldin', boy |
| I will destroy shit, even as I build it |
| Get the drill bit, pen is filled with poison |
| Which is the source, easy to still pinpoint it |
| Like what? Like a real thin joint, it |
| What? Comes on Quilted Northern |
| And what? In a built-in toilet |
| Yeah, bitch I told you I'm a dog (woof, woof) |
| I wouldn't heal with ointment |
| Way I'm kickin' these fairies tails |
| Should write a children's storybook (yeah) |
| Million voices in my head, but still get a little bit of thrill |
| And some real enjoyment |
| www.lirik31.com |
| Off what? Off the feel of going in |
| Like? Like your bitch when she gives me brain |
| Like she thinks I'm dumb |
| Grabs the crown of my dick and blows me to kingdom come |
| 'Til I feel anointed |
| She makes iller noises |
| When she's with me, must be from the Windy City |
| Pretty apparent, she's a M.I.L.F. when blowin' me |
| 'Cause like Kandor and two, rippin' the condom in two, woo |
| Dick is a bargain or two, now I'm gettin' blue like Kolonopins |
| Rude Jude, I go there, you wouldn't |
| Well, I still have a few views, and comment on you |
| Just not YouTube, 'cause... |
| [Eminem:] |
| You're a has-been |
| That has been the case since back when |
| You last went and threw your hat in the race |
| You've been trash |
| Stick your raps in the trash bin |
| Or end up in my next rhyme |
| You're a fuckboy, so next time |
| It's gonna be heads flyin' like Dez Bryant |
| With a TEC-9 against Rex Ryan, yeah! |
| Now watch me set it like correct time |
| All you get is sloppy seconds like a Timex time |
| I clock rejects into the next line |
| Talkin' reckless, that is just my |
| Strongest suit, but you can get my |
| Columbian neck tie |
| Prostitute just climb in the Humvee and lets ride |
| Why you hitching at night? |
| I put an end to your life (sex crime) |
| Kidding aside, insidious vibe |
| Girl, you know you got the prettiest eyes |
| But all you're getting is bribe |
| Ending your life to try to get you inside |
| Then we gon' end up spending the night |
| And I'm skinning your hide like an Indian tribe |
| What kind of nut drives a Budweiser truck |
| Finds a slut, tries to surprise her, cuffs, ties her |
| Up, binds up, cuts, slices her twice |
| But the muff diver must just like it rough |
| Fuck right in her vagina, blood |
| Flies up, under thighs, ugh, like a gyser, uh |
| Music, please |
| www.lirik31.com |
| Enthusi', instead of roofie |
| Goal is to get a floozie inside the jacuzzi |
| And have a loosie, goosey as coozie is with an Uzi |
| But I am to rap what blue jeans mean to Bruce Springsteen |
| Glued me be, I'm truTV, you're too PG |
| I'm Schoolly D, you're spoony, G |
| No diss there, just notice there are no similarities that we share |
| Besides the fact we breathe air |
| Happily married, to rap and I'm glad that we buried |
| The hatchet and patched it up |
| Now I'm back to ratchet up my attack |
| And I'm at your mothafuckin' throat like... |
![[Lyrics] Sandro Cavazza - So Much Better (Avicii Remix)](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwxyL3zm9-UuMsYOPLVwRepM-A-3eEtSfSRMojtzbbne9Uh2JreAqaso7KMyyjEQCJ5TpKBkJVFZN5NqLvSU8JLFi2SkFZ3RFlCGNhTnrTSFbJXrWxZeXzzEnPJudU1lmS_X-2EeWY7MP/w100/A01ep17.jpg)
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