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eminem - xl show freestyle lyrics
hand me an eighth, beam me up and land me in sp-ce
i’mma’ sit on top of the world and spit on brandy and ma$e
i’m more than ill
scarier than a white person trapped in a room with lauryn hill
human horror film
but with a lot funnier plot, and people that feel me
cause i’mma’ still be the madd rapper
whether i got money or not
as long as i’m on pills, and i got plenty of pot
i’ll be in a canoe paddlin’, makin’ fun of your yacht
but i would like an award
for the best rapper to get one mic in the source
and a wardrobe i can afford
otherwise i might just end up back striking at ford
and you wonder what the h-ll i need more vicodin for?
everybody’s p-ssin’ me off; even the no limit tank
looks like a middle finger sideways flippin’ me off
no wonder i’m a great danger to my health
why else would i k!ll you then jump in a grave and bury myself?
are you afraid of a blade made of a razor with aids
blood dripping from it
ripping your stomach up from the waist up?
you talk a lotta’ junk but you was never ill though
i’m strong enough to beat you to death with a feather pillow
tipped over some cows, just for a joke and a laugh
jumped up, choked a giraffe
snapped his neck and broke it in half
waging wars, went on stage
and sprayed cage with agent orange
and wiped my -ss with his page in source
the demon is here, i’m steaming this year
i rip mystikal’s voice box out and scream in his ear
it’s not a gimmick trick; it’s an image, i live it
give a d-mn, i don’t know what a d-mn is to give it
man i don’t think this guy is well, i’m high as h-ll
i’ll beat you with a live cat when i’m swinging him by his tail
i’ll friggin’, i’ll friggin’, lay your nuts on the dresser
just your n-ts-ck by itself
and bang them stuffs with a spiked bat
cut your neck off and glue your head right back
and leave you like that
you just triggered a pr-ck who just mixed liquor
who’s itching to leave you disfigured
and stiffer than chris-stiff-er reeves
i was t–thing with strep throat
while your mother was breastfeeding
and gave her the flesh-eating disease
i’m iller than takin’ a hammer and beating your knees
and walking through south central l.a., bleeding in jeans
flashing back to being shot and repeating the scenes
on how you just got smoked
and if you do live, you’ll be too scared to tell it like a biggie and pac joke
the one man on the planet that’ll drive off of the grand canyon, hop out of a grand am and land in it hand-standing
any man planning to battle will get sn-tched outta his clothes
so fast it’ll look like an invisible man standing
i’m headed for h-ll, i’d rather be dead or in jail
bill clinton, hit this, and you better inhale
cause any mc that chooses to go against me
is getting taking advantage of like monica lewinsky
came home in a frenzy, pushing a ten speed
screaming to aunt peg with three spokes
sticking outta my pant leg
forget a headache, give me a migraine, dammit i like pain
and you should be anywhere that a mic ain’t
you rap knowing you wack, you act up and i’m throwing you
down a flight of steps then i’m throwing you back up them
if they don’t like the track, f- them, the rap struck ’em harder
than getting hit by a mack truck and then backed up on
and any half–ssed known rapper to tresp-ss
better be ready for the second celebrity deathmatch
so tell the medic to bring the medication and quickly
i’m sicker than a 2pac dedication to biggie
i’m free-falling feet first out of a d-mn tree
to stampede your chest ’til you can’t breathe
and when i’m down to my last breath
i’mma’ climb the empire state building
and get to the last step and still have half left
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