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eminem – marshall mathers lyrics


“marshall mathers”

you know i just don’t get it
last year i was n-body
this year i’m sellin records
now everybody wants to come around like i owe em somethin
heh, the f-ck you want from me, ten million dollars?
get the f-ck out of here

[chorus one: eminem]

you see i’m, just marshall mathers (marshall mathers)
i’m just a regular guy,
i don’t know why all the fuss about me (fuss about me)
n-body ever gave a f-ck before,
all they did was doubt me (did was doubt me)
now everybody wanna run they mouth
and try to take shots at me (take shots at me)

yo, you might see me joggin, you might see me walkin
you might see me walkin a dead rottweiler dog
with it’s head chopped off in the park with a spiked collar
hollerin at him cause the son of a b-tch won’t quit barkin
(grrrr, arf arf) or leanin out a window, with a c-cked shotgun
drivin up the block in the car that they shot ‘pac in
lookin for big’s killers, dressed in ridiculous
blue and red like i don’t see what the big deal is
double barrel twelve gauge bigger than chris wallace
p-ssed off, cause biggie and ‘pac just missed all this
watchin all these cheap imitations get rich off ’em
and get dollars that shoulda been there’s like they switched wallets
and amidst all this crist’ poppin and wristw-tches
i just sit back and just watch and just get nauseous
and walk around with an empty bottle of remi martin
startin sh-t like some 26-year-old skinny cartman (“god d-mnit!”)
i’m anti-backstreet and ricky martin
with instincts to kill n’sync, don’t get me started
these f-ckin brats can’t sing and britney’s garbage
what’s this b-tch r-t-rded? gimme back my sixteen dollars
all i see is sissies in magazines smiling
whatever happened to whylin out and bein violent?
whatever happened to catchin a good-ol’ fashioned
p-ssionate -ss-whoopin and gettin your shoes coat and your hat tooken?
new kids on the block, sucked a lot of d-ck
boy/girl groups make me sick
and i can’t wait ’til i catch all you f-ggots in public
i’ma love it.. (hahaha)
vanilla ice don’t like me (uh-uh)
said some sh-t in vibe to spite me (yup)
then went and dyed his hair just like me (hehe)
a bunch of little kids wanna swear just like me
and run around screamin, “i don’t care, just bite me” (nah nah)
i think i was put here to annoy the world
and destroy your little 4-year-old boy or girl
plus i was put here to put fear in f-ggots who spray faygo root beer
and call themselves “clowns” cause they look queer
f-ggot2dope and silent gay
claimin detroit, when y’all live twenty miles away (f-ckin punks)
and i don’t wrestle, i’ll knock you f-ckin f-ggots the f-ck out
ask ’em about the club they was at when they snuck out
after they ducked out the back when they saw us and bugged out
(ahhh!) ducked down and got paintb-lls shot at they truck, blaow!
look at y’all runnin your mouth again
when you ain’t seen a f-ckin mile road, south of 10
and i don’t need help, from d-12, to beat up two females
in make-up, who may try to scratch me with lee nails
“slim -n-s,” you d-mn right, slim -n-s
i don’t get f-cked in mine like you two little flaming f-ggots!

[chorus two: eminem]

cause i’m, just marshall mathers (marshall mathers)
i’m not a wrestler guy,
i’ll knock you out if you talk about me (you talk about me)
come and see me on the streets alone
if you -ssholes doubt me (-ssholes doubt me)
and if you wanna run your mouth
then come take your best shot at me (your best shot at me)

is it because you love me that y’all expect so much of me?
you little groupie b-tch, get off me, go f-ck puffy
now because of this blonde mop that’s on top
and this f-cked up head that i’ve got, i’ve gone pop?
the underground just spunned around and did a 360
now these kids diss me and act like some big sissies
“oh, he just did some sh-t with missy,
so now he thinks he’s too big to do some sh-t with mc get-bizzy”
my f-ckin b-tch mom’s suin for ten million
she must want a dollar for every pill i’ve been stealin
sh-t, where the f-ck you think i picked up the habit?
all i had to do was go in her room and lift up her mattress
which is it b-tch, mrs. briggs or ms. mathers?
it doesn’t matter your [attorney fred gibson’s a] f-ggot!
talkin about i fabricated my past
he’s just aggravated i won’t -j-c-l-t- in his -ss (uhh!)
so tell me, what the h-ll is a fella to do?
for every million i make, another relative sues
family fightin and fussin over who wants to invite me to supper
all the sudden, i got 90 some cousins (hey it’s me!)
a half-brother and sister who never seen me
or even bothered to call me until they saw me on tv
now everybody’s so happy and proud
i’m finally allowed to step foot in my girlfriend’s house
hey-hey! and then to top it off, i walked to the newsstand
to buy this cheap–ss little magazine with a food stamp
skipped to the last page, flipped right fast
and what do i see? a picture of my big white -ss
okay, let me give you motherf-ckers some help:
uhh, here – double xl, double xl
now your magazine shouldn’t have so much trouble to sell
ahh f-ck it, i’ll even buy a couple myself

[chorus one (2x)]

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