Wicked Ways [explicit]

I'm getting by with my wicked ways
I'm loading up and I'm taking names
I wanna dig my way to hell
I wanna dig my way to hell

Guess I got a way with words, I could get away with murder
Ever heard of Aspergers'? It's a rare condition
It's what you're sufferin' from when you simply don't care if it's an
Eighty degree day and there's no frickin' air conditionin'
And you can't see the bitch's hair is frizzin'
'Cause you got the windows up, blarin' the system
In your Chevrolet Prizm
The devil ain't on a level same as him
Picture someone who revels in straight masochism
And imagine him givin' an adjective an ass-whoopin'
So bad they should put his ass in prison
A word bully, I verbally abuse verbs
Like they did somethin' to me personally
Used to get bullied, so I'd cut class and ditch it
Now I bully rap, I'm the shit, faggot (sniff it!)

Cadillac from a K Car
My ass from a hole in the ground, still can't tell 'em a-part
Came straight out the trailer park
Screamin': I'm proud to shop at K-Mart, and it became art
And I'm still fed up and as pissed off as they are
To this day I still get in fights with the same broad
At the same Walmart, arguin' over the same cart
In the middle of the aisle, whilin', I don't give a fuck, I don't play
Bitch, you think you saw this basket first?
Your ass backwards like motherfuckin' Bob and Silent Jay
Illest shit you could think I would say
Mind's like a pile of clay
When's the last time that you saw a villain with a cape?
Ripped a gapin' hole in it, flipped out
Ripped down the drapes, tied 'em around my neck
Went down the fire escape of the Empire State
Slipped, fell straight down to the ground
Splattered all over the entire state
And straight to hell, got impaled by the gates
Saw Satan, stuck his face in an ashtray
While I sashayed around flames with a match
And I gave him the gas face

And this ain't got nothin' to do with a scale
Or being gay, little faggot, but by the way
Thoughts are gettin' darker by the day
I'm a combination of Skylar Grey
Tyler, the Creator and Violent J
It's a fuckin' miracle to be this lyrical
Paint my face with clown makeup and a smiley face
I'm insane, every rhyme I say
Sons you like an ultra-violet ray
I'm sellin' hatred, buffet style, all the shit you can eat
$11.99, so come on and pile a plate
I'm throwin' down the gauntlet to see what hell I can raise
With the rhyme I'm spittin' while I'm shittin' on competition
In the meantime, it's always mean time, I'm gettin'

I'm getting by with my wicked ways
I'm loading up and I'm taking names
I wanna dig my way to hell
I wanna dig my way to hell

I've been a career asshole
I don't see why these people always got my back
I done said so much fucked up shit
I was born a mistake, but I was put here not by accident
I had a purpose and that purpose
Was to beat a beat purplish, slaughter tracks
I done put my two dimes and a nickel in this shit
I'm comin' to get that quarter back
Like Ndamukong, the drama can build
Your mama can ask me for my autograph
'Cause that cougar's a MILF
She's the oldest trick in the book, but I sure would fall for that
You done brought a bat to a rocket launcher fight
When I get on the mic, I'ma snap
Make you wish the ambulance that took me to the hospital
When I overdosed, woulda caught a flat
If it makes you sick to your stomach acid
Indigestion, my suggestion's Kaopectate
If it feels like I'm runnin' away with the game
It's 'cause I am, don't speculate, spectate
All I got is dick for days and insults for decades
But I get by with my wicked ways
Lady, you can suck a dick till your neck aches
Cry 'til you get puffy eyes, red faced
But I'm leavin' on this jet plane
You ain't fly, you're an airhead
And I'm sick of poundin' a square peg in a round hole
Sorry, another catchphrase
But your baggage ain't gon' fit in my storage overhead space
'Cause it just ain't big enough to fit your damaged goods
Other words: Don't try to put your heart in a headcase

'Cause, baby, stable mentally I ain't
I need my meds, I peed my bed
I'm going blind, I don't see my legs, I keep on falling down
No wonder you can't stand me, I need my cane
Someone help me, I think my face is melting
If you felt these migraines and see these maggots eat my brain
This G-I-A-N-T hole in my empty head
If you read my mind, you can see my pain
And you'd see why I be this way
Ever since I was knee-high playin' with GI Joes
Told these hoes shut their P-I-E holes, now peep my game
'Cause I'm 'bout it, 'bout it

Like a fuckin' (fuckin') echo (echo)
(Psych) psycho on a cyclone cycle, spiralin', here I go
I'm outta control like no other mic go
Stab you 'til the knife goes dull
I'm nothin' but a hole inside your skull where your eye goes
'Cause I'ma sock it to you
Dyke ho, you don't like it?
Get on your Harley-Davidson menstrual cycle
And ride it like a motorbike
I'm finna blow the mic the whole night, so strike up the fuckin' maestro, I'm nitro
And hi, hoe, hand me my shovel
I'm liable to dig my hole deeper
And it's off to H-E, double hockey sticks, I go

I'm getting by with my wicked ways
I'm loading up and I'm taking names
I wanna dig my way to hell
I wanna dig my way to hell

(Oh, please, be empty)
(Please, be empty, please, be empty)
(Oh, thank you, God)
(Shit)
(Is that a girl?)

I'm gonna rock this blouse and put a cock in my mouth
And get my balls blew out and get gay into the AM
And lay with eighteen guys naked
And let myself show
Let myself show

Buttfuck it, suck it, pull it, tug it
Life's too short to not stroke your bone
So everybody, everybody
Circle jerk, touch my body

Who is that? Where are you going?
Come back
Why does everyone always leave me?
Hello?
Fuck you then
Blow it out your ass

Eminem

Wicked Ways [explicit]

Chansons les plus populaires [artist_preposition] Eminem

Autres artistes de Hip Hop/Rap