sábado, 20 de abril de 2013

Estado de espírito (III)

You know I just don't get it
Last year I was nobody
This year I'm selling records
Now everybody wants to come around like I owe em something
The fuck you want from me ten million dollars
Get the fuck out of here

You see I'm just Marshall Mathers
I'm just a regular guy
I don't know why all the fuss about me

Nobody ever gave a fuck before
All they did was doubt me
Now everybody wanna run their mouth and try to take shots at me

You might see me jogging
You might see me walking
You might see me walking a dead rottweiler dog
With its head chopped off in the park with a spiked collar
Hollering at him cause the son of a bitch won't quit barking
Or leaning out a window with a cocked shotgun
Driving up the block in the car that they shot Pac in
Looking for Big's killers
Dressing ridiculous
Like I don't see what the big deal is
Double barrel 12-gauge bigger than Chris Wallace
Pissed off cause Biggie and Pac just missed all this
Watching all these cheap imitations get rich off em
And get dollars that should've been theirs like they switched wallets
And amidst all this Crist' popping and wrist watches
I just sit back and just watch and just get nauseous
And walk around with an empty bottle of Remy Martin
Starting shit like some 26-year-old skinny Cartman

I'm anti-Backstreet and Ricky Martin
With instincts to kill N'Sync
Don't get me started
These fucking brats can't sing and Britney's garbage
What is this bitch, retarded
Give me back my sixteen dollars
All I see is sissies in magazines smiling
Whatever happened to wiling out and being violent

Whatever happened to catching a good old-fashioned
Passionate ass-whooping
And getting your shoes coat and your hat tooken

New Kids on the Block sucked a lot of dick
Boy girl groups make me sick
And I can't wait 'til I catch all you faggots in public
I'mma love it

Vanilla Ice don't like me
Said some shit in Vibe to spite me
Then went and dyed his hair just like me
A bunch of little kids wanna swear just like me
And run around screaming
I don't care, just bite me
I think I was put here to annoy the world
And destroy your little four-year-old boy or girl
Plus I was put here to put fear in faggots who spray Faygo Root Beer
And call themselves clowns cause they look queer
Faggy 2 Dope and Silent Gay
Claiming Detroit
When y'all live twenty miles away
And I don't wrestle
I'll knock you fucking faggots the fuck 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
Ducked down and got paintballs shot at they truck, blaow
Look at y'all running your mouth again
When you ain't seen a fucking 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 Anus
You damn right, slim anus
I don't get fucked in mine like you two little flaming faggots

Cause I'm just Marshall Mathers
I'm not a wrestler guy
I'll knock you out if you talk about me
Come and see me on the streets alone
If you assholes doubt me
And if you wanna run your mouth
Then come take your best shot at me

Is it because you love me that y'all expect so much of me
You little groupie bitch
Get off me, go fuck Puffy
Now because of this blonde mop that's on top
And this fucked 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 shit with Missy
So now he thinks he's too big to do some shit with MC Get-Bizzy
My fucking bitch mom's suing for ten million
She must want a dollar for every pill I've been stealing
Shit, where the fuck 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 bitch
Mrs. Briggs or Ms. Mathers
It doesn't matter your attorney Fred Gibson's a faggot
Talking about I fabricated my past
He's just aggravated I won't ejaculate in his ass
So tell me, what the hell is a fella to do
For every million I make
Another relative sues
Family fighting and fussing over who wants to invite me to supper
All of a sudden, I got ninety-some cousins
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
And then to top it off
I walked to the news stand
To buy this cheap-ass 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 ass
Okay, let me give you mothafuckas some help
Um, here, XXL, XXL
Now your magazine shouldn't have so much trouble to sell
Ahh fuck it, I'll even buy a couple myself

1 comentário: