[Scratches: DJ Butter Fingers]
"Those that bluffed got stuffed in the basement"
"Those that bluffed got stuffed in the basement"
"Those that bluffed got stuffed in the basement"
[Verse 1: Eminem]
I don't got perfect eyesight
But I could spot your fake ass in the dark wearin' solid black
Makin' yourselves look pitiful makes us all look wack
So don't stand up there on me with those [in a?] [?]
Tryna act vicious when your whole fuckin' image is factitious
I see you got a rare case of gangster limp
All that practicin' on your walk when you wouldn't step to a staircase
You must think I'm too gullible to notice that
Your personality's gettin' too colorful, I don't believe I'm actually seein' this crap
You better get your head checked
'Cause I don't see how a redneck could be into rap
You even picked up an accent, "I'm from the streets!"
Whatever the fuck that meant, so now we want that chocolate
I knew this life was artificial to begin with
So I stepped on him with my feet, but now they're covered in dog shit
So don't give me that "Boogie Woogie, I'm real" rap
A minute more, I know what you're in it for, what's your intent?
[Chorus: Eminem]
Are you in it for the profit? Does money in ya pocket
Mean more than respect? Or do ya play for sport
And that's all that's really important
Compete for competition comes before any check, tell me, what's your intent?
Are you lookin' at this as simply just a quick way to make a ducat
Or does your heart go in each tune?
I'm interested in your purpose 'cause this shit's becomin' a circus
And us jugglers need some elbow room
"Those that bluffed got stuffed in the basement"
"Those that bluffed got stuffed in the basement"
"Those that bluffed got stuffed in the basement"
[Verse 1: Eminem]
I don't got perfect eyesight
But I could spot your fake ass in the dark wearin' solid black
Makin' yourselves look pitiful makes us all look wack
So don't stand up there on me with those [in a?] [?]
Tryna act vicious when your whole fuckin' image is factitious
I see you got a rare case of gangster limp
All that practicin' on your walk when you wouldn't step to a staircase
You must think I'm too gullible to notice that
Your personality's gettin' too colorful, I don't believe I'm actually seein' this crap
You better get your head checked
'Cause I don't see how a redneck could be into rap
You even picked up an accent, "I'm from the streets!"
Whatever the fuck that meant, so now we want that chocolate
I knew this life was artificial to begin with
So I stepped on him with my feet, but now they're covered in dog shit
So don't give me that "Boogie Woogie, I'm real" rap
A minute more, I know what you're in it for, what's your intent?
[Chorus: Eminem]
Are you in it for the profit? Does money in ya pocket
Mean more than respect? Or do ya play for sport
And that's all that's really important
Compete for competition comes before any check, tell me, what's your intent?
Are you lookin' at this as simply just a quick way to make a ducat
Or does your heart go in each tune?
I'm interested in your purpose 'cause this shit's becomin' a circus
And us jugglers need some elbow room
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