Airplanes
Since 99' I've been dope in this.
Focusing, unfocusing.
Sure as the sun floats, and sure as the sun's smoking
I was the gun totinist my cuz told me,
don't get demoted, keep it close to your digits
You know you did it,
You let yourself get to close to them chickens.
I said I disagree, then I let super head lick on me
Strokin the kittin, the cat's stack box.
Turn around and write a book about both of the bitches
Next stop, to the top.
I done went from A to XY, almost at Z chilling at a rest stop.
My new bitch, call her my ps3.
You? You're bitch pussy, call it my xbox.
Me I'm the rhyme ruler, me and the nine together
Deadly as Nas in his prime, you about deadly as a benign tumor
Since '9 2, been the highly touted retarded truth.
Probably about to Eli Porter potty somebody's booth.
Never selling my soul, I'm selling my skills.
I'm on Raps radar now, Elliott Wilson.
Painter of the underground canvas
Even though I can't freelance no more,
the underground famished.
Before I settle for less than average I swallow a watermelon, follow it with a double down sandwhich.
I swear that God told me that
Slaughterhouse will be the second time around for me.
All eyes on me.
I know I'm not the greatest, I go hard.
Your boombox is now invaded, Bogart.
Look at me today, 8 years ago
I was popular for being hated, solar.
Nickel Nine's the ruler, God combined with Budha.
Gifted obligonda primes medula
Each line is like a computer bomb designed my McGuivre
That only could be detonated by a McGruber.
I'm thinking if I ain't binge drinking than I ain't living.
Somebody told me I'm probably dying, but I ain't listen.
By the time it could hard me, I'll probably die by a trigger.
So I'm only going cold turkey right after Thanksgiving.
I paint pictures between blank scriptures
Now just how contradictory is it that I pray?
The names Royce, and I be popping so much pussy
Dwight Howard look at me sideways.
While those bitches try to grab all on my dick,
I can't even get my own N to rap on my shit.
You form a click it should be sacred, I shouldn't say shit.
Cause the truth hurts, like the bitch that Dre ditched.
Nobody loves my N's like me
Sober or wasted, for you there's no replacement.
I swear that God told me,
Slaughterhouse would be the second time around for me.
All Eyes On Me.
Focusing, unfocusing.
Sure as the sun floats, and sure as the sun's smoking
I was the gun totinist my cuz told me,
don't get demoted, keep it close to your digits
You know you did it,
You let yourself get to close to them chickens.
I said I disagree, then I let super head lick on me
Strokin the kittin, the cat's stack box.
Turn around and write a book about both of the bitches
Next stop, to the top.
I done went from A to XY, almost at Z chilling at a rest stop.
My new bitch, call her my ps3.
You? You're bitch pussy, call it my xbox.
Me I'm the rhyme ruler, me and the nine together
Deadly as Nas in his prime, you about deadly as a benign tumor
Since '9 2, been the highly touted retarded truth.
Probably about to Eli Porter potty somebody's booth.
Never selling my soul, I'm selling my skills.
I'm on Raps radar now, Elliott Wilson.
Painter of the underground canvas
Even though I can't freelance no more,
the underground famished.
Before I settle for less than average I swallow a watermelon, follow it with a double down sandwhich.
I swear that God told me that
Slaughterhouse will be the second time around for me.
All eyes on me.
I know I'm not the greatest, I go hard.
Your boombox is now invaded, Bogart.
Look at me today, 8 years ago
I was popular for being hated, solar.
Nickel Nine's the ruler, God combined with Budha.
Gifted obligonda primes medula
Each line is like a computer bomb designed my McGuivre
That only could be detonated by a McGruber.
I'm thinking if I ain't binge drinking than I ain't living.
Somebody told me I'm probably dying, but I ain't listen.
By the time it could hard me, I'll probably die by a trigger.
So I'm only going cold turkey right after Thanksgiving.
I paint pictures between blank scriptures
Now just how contradictory is it that I pray?
The names Royce, and I be popping so much pussy
Dwight Howard look at me sideways.
While those bitches try to grab all on my dick,
I can't even get my own N to rap on my shit.
You form a click it should be sacred, I shouldn't say shit.
Cause the truth hurts, like the bitch that Dre ditched.
Nobody loves my N's like me
Sober or wasted, for you there's no replacement.
I swear that God told me,
Slaughterhouse would be the second time around for me.
All Eyes On Me.
Credits
Writer(s): Marshall B. Mathers Iii, Bobby Ray Simmons Jr., Timothy Paul Sommers, Alexander Junior Grant, Luis Edgardo Resto, Jeremy Dussolliet
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.