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eminem d12 - under the influence lyrics

so you can suck my d-ck if you don’t like, my sh-t
cause i was high when i wrote this so suck, my d-ck – ha ha

two pills i pop, ’til my pupils swell up like two pennies
i’m clint eastwood in his mid-twenties
a young -ss man with a trash can strapped to the back of his -ss
so the rats can’t chew through his last pants
i’m like a mummy at night, fightin’ with bright lightning
frightened with five little white vicadin pills bitin’ him
i’m like a f-ckin’ wasp in the hospital lost
stingin the f-ck outta everything i come across in the halls
i light a candle and place it up on the mantle
grab a knife at the blade and stab you with the f-ckin’ handle
so when you find yourself wrapped up in the blinds, hurtin’
swifty b-tch it’s too late
eminem cause once you’re hung from the drapes, it’s curtains

i’m an instigator, .380 slug penetrator
degradin, creatin murders to kill haters
accused for every crime known through the equator
they knew i did it (uh-huh) for havin’ blood on my ‘gators
my weed’ll hit yo’ chest like a double barrel gauge an’
i’m a black grenade that’ll blow up in yo’ face
with a fifth in me, when i guzzle remi i do sh-t on purpose
you never hear me say, “forgive me”
i’m sn-tchin every penny – it gotta be that way n-gg-, face it
that weed i sold to you, brigade laced it
you hidin’, i make the president get a facelift
n-gg-z just afraid, handin’ me they bracelets
chillin’ in the lab wasted
i’m the type that’ll drink kahlua and gin – throw up on the mic
your life is ruined, you get socked right on site
and even at the million man march, we gon’ fight

so you can suck my d-ck if you don’t like, my sh-t
cause i was high when i wrote this so suck, my d-ck
cause i don’t give a f-ck if you don’t like, my sh-t
cause i was high when i wrote this so suck, my d-ck

i’m a compulsive liar, settin’ my preacher on fire
slashin’ your tires, flyin down fenkel and meyers
plates expired, soon as i’m hired, i’m fired
jackin’ my d-ck off in a bed of barbed wire
(hey, is bizarre performing?) b-tch didn’t you read the flyer?
special invited guest will be, richard pryor
(aren’t you a male dancer?) nah b-tch, i’m retired
f-ckin’ your b-tch in the -ss with a tire iron
i’m ripped, i’m on an acid trip
my dj’s in a coma for lettin’ the record skip
lettin’ the record skip
lettin’ the record skip (d-mn!)
i’m f-ckin’ anything when i’m snortin’
it’s gonna cost 300 dollars to get my pit bull an abortion
some b-tch asked for my autograph
i called her a wh-r-, spit beer in her face and laughed
i drop bombs like i was in vietnam
all b-tches is hoes, even my stinkin’ -ss mom

aiyyo flashback, two feets, two deep up in that -ss crack
weed laced with somethin’, n-gg- p-ss that
in amsterdam we only hang out with hash rats
at a ‘stop the violence’ rally, i blast gats
bmi publishin’, get your ascap-ped
the kuniva, divide up your cash stack
want your motherf-ckin’ pockets, asap
i don’t need a platinum chain, b-tch i sn-tch shaq’s
born loser, half thief and half black
bring your boys and your guns and get laughed at
b-tch smacker, rich rappers get their jag jacked
and found chopped up in a trash bag

we stranglin’ rappers until the point they can’t yell
cause they crew is full of f-gs and sweeter than bake sales
reckless, come from behind and sn-tch your necklace
gruesome, and causin more violence than nine hoodlums
i grapple your adam’s apple until it crackle
run right past you, turn around, grab you and stab you
get executed, ’cause i’m a “luni”
i got a “yukmouth” and it’s polluted
i c-ck it back then shoot it
i love sn-tchin’ up players thugs and young ballers
shoot up the household, even the young toddlers
brigade barricade to bring the noise
while the bullets break your bones up like christmas toys
if i go solo, i’m doin a song with bolo
a big chinese n-gg-, screamin’ “kuniva yo yo ”
i leave your face leakin’, run up in church
and smack the preacher while he’s preachin’
take a swing at the deacon

i used to tell cats i sold weed and weight
i was straight ’til i got caught sellin’ them shake
i’m ignorant, with the intent to sn-tch your rent
i got kicked out of summer camp for havin’ s-x in my tent
with the superintendent’s daughter, my brain’s out of order
i’ve been a kon artis since i was swimmin’ in water
in cahoots with this n-gg- named fall out von
who got fired from ups for tryin’ to send you a bomb
(special delivery!) i signed to a local label for fun
say i got cancer, get dropped, take the advancement and run
driveby you in the rain while you carry your son
call your house and hang up on you for not givin’ me none
born straight up out a p-ssy but a son of a gun
got a reputation for havin’ n-gg-z runnin’ they funds
used to be the type of n-gg- that was foldin’ some one’s
’til i met your fat mama, now i’m rollin’ in dough

haha suck my motherf-ckin’ d-ck
d-12 dirty motherf-ckin’ dozen
nasty like a stank sl-t b-tch with thirty f-ckin’ husbands
bizarre kid
swifty mcveigh
the kon artis
the kuniva
dirty harry
haha, and slim shady

- eminem d12 lyrics

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