I don't smile, I don't frown, get too up or get too down (Nah)
I was here, so were you, you came and went, I stuck around (Yeah)
Still here now, stop me how? Your opinion's like a broken calculator, that shit doesn't count
Shut your motherfuckin' mouth
I'm emptyin' (I'm emptyin') my book of rhymes (My book of rhymes)
Get 'em all off my pad, every thought that I had
I said I'm emptyin' (I'm emptyin') my book of rhymes (My book of rhymes)
Get 'em all off my pad (Yeah), every thought that I had
Haven't used all the tricks I have, so like my balls, I'm in my bag
Get a little testy whеn I'm mad, sick of wrestling this iPad
Unsuccessfully I might add, and I know it's best to lеave it live
But even I get obsessed with reading everything
And let it get the best of me 'til I snap ('Til I snap)
But I need to get off the internet (Get off the internet)
I need to get on the mic (Get on the mic)
You need to get off the internet (Internet), you need to get you a life
Why you waste time just to comment on shit? (Comment on shit)
'Specially shit you don't like (Shit you don't like)
Don't like it, don't listen, but don't tell me 'bout your favorite rapper rippin' some shit he didn't write (Shit he didn't write)
What happened to Slim? He was no cap with the pen
He used to rap like the people this music was for
He was exactly like them
Since yo’ dude used to be poor, why can't he tap into him?
Can't use that excuse anymore
He's mad at the wind, he's in a nuclear war
With the cloud he's yelling at it again
I talked to your mother, she told me she love me
All she wanna do is just hold me and hug me
Wants nobody but me, she showed me the dougie
Can I get a witness like notary public? (Preach)
She said, "Kick some fly shit" (Fly shit)
I said, "I got wings on my ass" (Wings on my ass)
Told her my dick's a cockpit (Dick's a cockpit)
I fly by the seat of my pants (Seat of my pants)
Sinful thoughts, this beat is crazy, this shit's retarded
This Instr-is-mental, too many bars, incidental charges
When did it start? I been cold hearted in this heart
Since kindergarten, mental sharpness
Which made Simmoll walk, and Dennis soft 'cause bitch, I invented flossin'
Yeah, I used to wonder where my next meal's gonna come from
Now, I just wonder where my next mill's gonna come from
I cannot have no success, unless when I finally make it
I get to remind all the haters, who shitted on me when I'm on my way up
My floor is y'all fool's ceilings
If I was you, I would step or find yourself twisted
That's how you'll wind up like spiral stairs
I will swear on a stack of Bibles
I will tear new behinds out of rivals, even your idols
I don't care, it's Music to Be Murdered By
So Bon Iver can swallow a fucking Ja Rule bobblehead
And die slow like old times (Ha-ha)
Lone sniper, I hold the micro-phone like a loaded rifle
My dome's brighter, all I spit from my skull's fire
All that's missing's a motorcycle with the chrome wires, spoke tires and
Y'all are flow biters, so I don't gotta explain why they call me a ghostwriter
I'm emptyin' my book of rhymes (My book of rhymes)
Get 'em all off my pad, every thought that I had
I said, I'm emptyin' my book of rhymes (My book of rhymes)
Get 'em all off my pad, every thought that I had
(Illa)
Haven't used all the tricks I have, so like my balls, it's in my bag
I tend to get a little testy when I'm mad
But gift to gab and pen to pad
Turn temper tantrums into anthems
Put lips to ass and kiss the cracks
Spit your damnedest you're still gonna hit the canvas
Rippin' rappers that are Insta whippersnappers
Mr. Mathers is killin' this shit, villainous wit with scandals
Syllables rip the planet, biblical shit's finna hit the fan
Anybody wanna go tit for tat's gonna get hit with that
Then the amygdala hippocampus
Is gonna trigger the ignoramus
To think of the most ridiculous shit to spit
Then pin it against these pitiful rappers
Insidious, these idiots witty as shit, against me, shitty as MC Hammers
Hit your whole squad, send a task force in
If you want it, you're 'bout to get what you asked for then
Put your helmet on, strap your chin
You're 'bout to get you a crash course in
"Who not to start a motherfuckin' rap war with
Or to go against", fuck would you wanna do that for?
No offense, but are you retards slow or dense?
A fuckin' penny has more sense
Yeah, now you gotta get killed, but it's not a big deal
But every thought is so ill and so methodical
Thought I swallowed a pill, I'm startin' to feel like I'm an automobile
With Barnacle Bill inside the car at the wheel
Inside a carnival, 'cause I'm plowin' into everyone who wrote snotty articles
And that explains why the fuck you clowns are all in my grill
Joy and pain, fortune, fame, torture, shame
Choice I made, swore someday
The world would pay, less to lose, more to gain
Daughters raised, yesterday, glory days, adored and praised
Ignore the hate, address the fake
Toured with Dre, tore a page from Jordan King
Destroyed the game, before you came, enjoy your stay
Before it's gone away, but the more you claim
That you're gonna point and aim
If you join their gang, your shit isn't goin' to bang
You're just boring, lame and more the same
You have an enormous chain, but a storm-less brain
The most you could form is rain
Your shit is pointless, same as a scoreless game
So, bitch, quit lyin', you're denyin' like Mr. Porter's name
Borderline bipolar disorder since my stroller
Eyes rollin' back in my skull like Eli Porter
Fire motor (Brr), rounds I told to every iota or I load up
I owe to my motor, mouth
This is my note to self
Sometimes you're gonna bomb
So you might just have to blow yourself up with no one's help
I just wrote it down in my book of rhymes
Preemo, take us out
Writin' in my book of rhymes
My book of rhymes, my book of rhymes
I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm eastside
Writin' in my book of rhymes
My book of rhymes, my book of rhymes
I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm eastside
compositores: Marshall Mathers, Nasir Jones, Matthew Norrish Jacobson, Katorah Marrero, Ronald Spence Jr., Nayvadius Wilburn, Jacob Canady, Luis Resto, Ray Fraser, Christopher Martin
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