Eminem, WESTSIDE BOOGIE, GRIP Fuel (Shady Edition)

Smokin' trees, I'm ridin' 'round, come to my side of town Lately, it's been goin', goin', goin', goin', goin' down Come see how heavy it get, I done seen way too much stress as a jit Death in this section was present, we preppin' for war, so we feel like we better equipped Brodie got demons he keep to his self, probably won't ever know, 'cause he never gon' snitch Hella resentment from lettin' it sit, I say, "I got him, " I'm never gon' miss I done put way too much prep into this, back on your bumper how I'm wreckin' this bitch I keep on talkin' 'bout healin' that's never gon' happen, you know that I'm steppin' on shit I say the feelin' I get from me killin' a rapper just show me that Heaven exist Shootin' 'til ain't nothin' left in the clip, shootin' 'til I get respect in this bitch I might just go get a Tec in this bitch, I might just go at the ref in this bitch Guessing you think this shit new to me, huh? Guess you ain't know what's fuelin' me, huh? I just had enemies shoot at me, tell me, just what could this industry do to me, huh? Helpin' the hood and the homies and plus the community think that it's two of me, huh? Know where I go when it's over, I run out of gas, they gon' say that they through with me, huh? Aw, shit When all this shit gon' get better? Bitches just fuckin' whoever Nigga just sayin' whatever, niggas' gon' fold under pressure, honestly I ain't no better I had to hop out the hole and got cold as a shoulder, I turned my emotion into sweater I had to garner the power to work on my soul, I ain't tryna be broken forever I see the smoke, and start runnin' into it, shawty you losin' is so therapeutic I kinda think that you want it to happen, got put in a corner, you forced me to do it You gotta tell me that bein' a rapper is hangin' with rappers, and I ain't into it I'm with the shit, and I'm ready to prove it, waitin' on Marshall to say I can do it This shit goin' down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow– If I run out of fuel, I won't What the fuck y'all gon' do if I don't Run out of fuel? (Down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow–) That scares the fuck out of you (Look) I was slept on and left for dead Sweat, wept, and bled for a game that barely kept me fed Ain't want the fame, just a spec of cred Nowadays I take a check instead The pen been steps ahead If you mention him, them boys wet the bed Get on a track with GRIP and get knocked out like yo' daddy did Whatever Deebo said to Craig, we can go head to head Niggas play hard on the app At they mama crib hatin' on bars in a rap From niggas that still starve in the trap Clap back and it's, "GRIP, you're takin' it too far, just relax" These words I discard on the wax Shit deeper than the cars and the racks The fashion and gas, so when a star interacts Got the soul of a field nigga with scars on his back So pardon me if part of me feel a itch to click Pitch a fit, blitz a bitch, split ya shit GRIP in the kitchen with instant grits Flick the wrist, they wish he'd miss, he's six for six Go back through the discog' It's obvious I'm the godliest, yeah, I'm sonnin' y'all I took the summer off Just to let them get they mumbles off about blocks that they ain't spun at all The uninvolved underdog Summoned from a drunken slumber to pummel y'all, but they don't wanna brawl This shit ain't even fun no more I mean, don't nobody wanna come outside They like, "You should do a song with so and so Or maybe such and such, " this shit done, I tried They must not got it in their arsenal or metacarpal To pick the pen up and out-ink the man Hm, but then again I'm partial It really took Marshall just for me to get a feature? Damn I know rap's what I started with But when your target market's lethargic to the bars you spit It's harder to put your heart in it But come too far to quit, now I'm on to guitars and shit So don't find it jarrin' if I switch the whole style up Want the old GRIP? Go get the old album Any genre, same outcome I'm on that bitch with a stick like Malcolm Buck, buck, buck, buck Buck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck If I run out of fuel, I won't What the fuck y'all gon' do if I don't Run out of fuel? (Down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow–) That scares the fuck out of you I was up to my waist in debt, better yet, face and neck, tryna chase a check Sweat, labor for minimal as wages get, just tryna get me a dub like a blank cassette (Yeah) I worked for peanuts 'til the day I met Dre and that gave me a little raise in net Now nothing is close to disgusting as what I grossed, so this must mean what I wrote makes me the Illest rapper there is, was, or ever will be That's the real reason I still squeeze and I fill these bars with so much vitriol These voices in my head convince me, I bet that Ted Kaczynski'll feel me 'Cause I serial-kill beats like Israel Keyes My peripheral sees everything, you was POVs to rap G-O-D From Little Caesars to filled arenas, I made it big, word to Lil' Cease "Fuel" remix, so who'll be picked next, who's name gonna be next up? Notorious B.I.G.'s death was the domino effects of 2Pac's murder Like facial tissue, whose clock should I clean next? Puff's? 'Til he's in police handcuffs, guilty, will he step up? Like gee, never turned himself in, who knows all the murders they'll pin On me, next they'll prepare for me to not choose none of my words carefully I've been comparable to Ivan The Terrible, I'll take a paraplegic And I'll slam his wheelchair on the cement at physical therapy treatment Then laugh hysterically, these wimps are like Slim's hair when he bleached it Y'all need to lighten up, I give a fuck, I don't care in the least bit Kiss every square inch of my white rear end, I guarantee That my elevator's stuck somewhere between two levels emcees won't ever see I spit bars so barbarically, a fuckin' parakeet wouldn't dare repeat I'll never be runnin' out of steam or kerosene If I run out of fuel, I won't What the fuck y'all gon' do if I don't Run out of fuel? (Down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow–) That scares the fuck out of you