Rap God Lyrics — Eminem | караоке, минус + текст песни

I was gonna go easy on you, not to hurt your feelings. But I'm only going to get this one chance. Six minutes. Something's wrong. Six minutes. I can feel it. It's just- Six minutes until the state of your, um... ... a feeling I've got. Um... Like something's about to happen. Um... But I don't know what. If that means what I think it means, we're in trouble Um... And if he is as bananas as you say, I'm not taking any chances. Um... You were just what the doc ordered. I'm beginning to feel like a rap god, rap god. All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod. Now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box? They said I rap like a robot, so call me rap-bot. But for me to rap like a computer, must be in my genes. I got a laptop, and mob when I hap-kocket. Got a fat knot from that rap profit. Made a living and a killing off it, ever since Bill Clinton was still in office with Monica Lewinsky feeling on his nut sack. I'm an MC still as honest, but as rude and as indecent as all hell. Syllables, killaholic the sliggity-giggity-jiggity hip hop. You don't really wanna get into a pissing match with the trappity-rap pack and a MAC in the back of the Ac', backpack rap crap. Yap, yap, yackety-yack and at the exact same time I attempt these lyrical acrobat stunts. While I'm practicing that, I'll still be able to break a motherfucking table over the back of a couple of faggots and crack it in half. Only realized it was ironic I was signed to Aftermath after the fact. How could I not blow? All I do is drop F-bombs. Feel my wrath of attack. Rappers are having a rough time period, here's a Maxi pad. It's actually disastrously bad for the wack while I'm masterfully constructing this masterpiece, ah. 'Cause I'm beginning to feel like a rap god, rap god. All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod. Now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box? Lemme show you maintaining this shit ain't that hard, that hard. Everybody want the key and the secret to rap immortality like I have got. Well, to be truthful the blueprint's to be raising you from exuberance. Everybody loves to root for a nuisance. Hit the earth like an asteroid and didn't nothing but shoot for the moon since. Pew. MCs get taken to school with this music 'cause I use it as a vehicle to bust a rhyme. Y'all gon' need a new school for the students. Me? I'm a product of Rakim, Lakim Shabazz, 2Pac N-W-A, Cube, hey Doc, Ren, Yella, Eazy, thank you. They got Slim. Inspired enough to one day grow up, blow up and be in a position to meet Run DMC and induct them into the motherfucking Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Even though I walk in the church and burst in a ball of flames, only hall of fame I'll be inducted in is the alcohol on the wall of shame. You fags think it's all a game 'til I walk a flock of flames, off a plank and tell me what in the fuck are you thinking? Little gay-looking boy. So gay I can barely say it with a straight face, looking boy. You witnessing a massacre like you watching a church gathering take place, looking boy. "Oh, hey, that boy's gay," that's all they say, looking boy. You get a thumbs up, pat on the back and a way to go from your label every day, looking boy. Hey, looking boy, what you say, looking boy? I get a, "Hell yeah" from Dre, looking boy. I'ma work for everything I have, never asked nobody for shit, get outta my face, looking boy. Basically, boy, you're never gonna be capable to keeping up with the same pace, looking boy. 'Cause I'm beginning to feel like a rap god, rap god. All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod. The way I'm racing around the track, call me NASCAR, NASCAR. Dale Earnhardt of the trailer park, the white trash god. Kneel before General Zod, this planet's Krypton, no Asgard, Asgard. So you be Thor and I'll be Odin, you rodent. I'm omnipotent, let off, then I'm reloading immediately with these bombs I'm toting. And I should not be woken. I'm the walking dead, but I'm just a talking head, a zombie floating. But I got your mom deep throating. I'm out my ramen noodle. We have nothing in common, poodle. I'm a Doberman, pinch yourself in the arm and pay homage, pupil. It's me, my honesty's brutal. But it's honestly futile if I don't utilize what I do though for good at least once in a while. So I wanna make sure somewhere in this chicken scratch I scribble and doodle enough rhymes to maybe true tough times. But I gotta keep a few punchlines 'cause non-rappers are hungry, looking at me like it's lunchtime. I know there was a time where once I was king of the underground. But I still rap like I'm on my Pharoahe Monch grind. Sometimes shine when you combine appeal with the skin color of mine. You get too big and here they come trying to censor you like that one line I said on, on Back From The Mathers LP1 when I tried to say I'll take seven kids from Columbine, put 'em all in a line, add an AK47, a revolver, and a nine. See if I get away with it now that I ain't as big as I was. But I've morphed into an immortal coming through the portal. You're stuck in a time warp from 2004 though. And I don't know what the fuck that you rhyme for when you're pointless as Rapunzel with fucking cornrows. You write normal? Fuck being normal. And I just bought a new ray gun from the future just to come and shoot you like when Fabolous made Ray J mad 'cause Fab said he looked like a fag in Mayweather's pad singing to a man while he played piano. Man, oh, man, that was a 24/7 special on the cable channel. So Ray J went straight to the radio station the very next day, "Hey, Fab, I'ma kill you." Lyrics coming at you at supersonic speed, JJ Fad. Uh, suma-luma-duma-luma, you assuming I'm a human. What I gotta do to get it through to you I'm superhuman? Innovative and I'm made of rubber so that anything you say is ricocheting off of me and it'll glue to you and... I'm devastating my fucking audience, I'm feeling like it's levitating, never fading. And I know the haters are forever waiting for the day that they can say I fell. I know the way to get 'em motivated, I make elevating music, you make elevator music. "Oh, he's too mainstream." Well, that's what they do when they get jealous, they confuse it. It's not hip-hop, it's pop 'cause I found a hella way to fuse it with rock, shock rap with Doc. Throw on Lose Yourself and make 'em lose it. "I don't know how to make songs like that. I don't know what words to use." Lemme know when it occurs to you while I'm ripping any one of these verses that versus you, it's curtains. I'm inadvertently hurting you, how many verses I gotta murder to prove that if you were half as nice your songs, you could sacrifice virgins too? Uh. School flunky, pill junkie. But look at the accolades these skills brung me. Full of myself, but still hungry. I bully myself 'cause I make me do what I put my mind to. And I'm a million leagues above you. Ill when I speak in tongues, but it's still tongue-in-cheek. Fuck you, I'm drunk, so Satan, take the fucking wheel, I'ma sleep in the front seat. Bumping Heavy D and the Boyz, still chunky but funky. But in my head, there's something I can feel tugging and struggling. Angels fight with devils and here's what they want from me. They're asking me to eliminate some of the women hate, but if you take into consideration the bitter hates that I have for them, you may be a little patient and more sympathetic to the situation, discrimination nation. But fuck it, life's handing you lemons? Make lemonade then. But if I can't batter the women, how the fuck am I supposed to bake him a cake then? Don't mistake him for Satan. It's a fatal mistake if you think I need seizing, take a vacation to trip a broad and make her fall on her face and... Don't be a retard, be a king? Think not. Why be a king when you can be a god?