tripod - eminem's woobie lyrics
since the beginning of time i’ve been able to rhyme
the kids never gave me trouble, they could never burst my bubble
i was growing stubble at the age of five
an individual feature, it’d impress the lady teachers
but the princ-p-l never saw the funny side
he would send me home all alone, with my mum working at the foam company
there’d never be anyone around to comfort me
i see… the me… i tried… to fly… but why… do i…
rely on an itty-bitty blanket?
i’ll cry… if you… refuse… to use…
a little bit of cl-ss, my -rs- is on the line here
i’m confessing a line, i’ll confide
i’d never be the man i am without the love my woobie provides
come on!
not without…
not without…
not without…
my woobie
not without…
not without…
not without…
my woobie
not without…
not without…
not without…
it’s a blanket which is discoloured on account of saliva
as i stand in a court of law, awaiting my sentence for all the things that i did
poisoning all the kids’ minds, and pretending to k!ll my wife kim
and befriending sir elton john
i’m sorry for that, i’m sorry for that
i won’t apologise for k!lling a cat, or drowning a bat, but i’m sorry for that
i hope god’s not a f-ggot
and will the members of the jury please stand up?
i’m going to enter my plea, ’cause i’m guilty
and i’d do it again, but when you put me away today
i hope and i pray i can sway y’all
don’t fai-oll me, let me take my woobie into jai-oll
not without…
not without…
not without…
my woobie
not without…
not without…
not without…
my woobie
not without…
not without…
not without…
dynamite, you should thank me
’cause i’m slim, never sk-nky
laughing all the way to the bank-y
it’s just me and my blankie
dynamite, you should thank me
’cause i’m slim, never sk-nky
laughing all the way to the bank-y
it’s just me and my blankie
yo, and when i’m in the ground, and when i’m in the ground
and my rappin’ is over and i’m heavenly-bound
and if i go supernova i’ll be up in the clouds
the shroud i burned out, but i’m proud
’cause i was too loud for you, and i was head of the crowd
st. peter, what a treat-a, nice to meet’cha, nice white sheet-a
won’t you lead the way through the heavenly gate?
but wait…
not without…
not without…
not without…
my woobie
not without…
not without…
that’s egg carton playing the guitar y’all
not without…
my woobie
not without…
not without…
not without…
dynamite, you should thank me
’cause i’m slim, never sk-nky
laughing all the way to the bank-y
it’s just me and my blankie
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