Cleaning Out My Closet kaufen (amazon.de) Album: The Eminem Show (Info) |
Where's my snare? I have no snare on my headphones There you go Yeah Yo yo Have you ever been hated or discriminated against? I have, I've been protested and demonstrated
against. Picket signs for my wicked rhymes. Look at the times. Sick is the mind of the motha fuckin' kid that's behind
all this commotion. Emotions run deep as ocean's explodin.' Tempers flaring from parents, just blow 'em off and keep
goin.' Not takin' nothin' from no one, give 'em hell long as I'm breathin.'
Keep kickin' ass in the mornin,' an' takin' names in the evening. Leavem with a taste as sour as vinegar in they
mouth. I'm sorry, Mama. I got some skeletons in my closet and I don't know if no one knows it. So before they thrown me inside my coffin and close
it I'ma expose it. I'll take you back to '73 before I ever had a multi-platinum sellin' CD.
I was a baby, maybe I was just a couple of months. My faggot father must have had his panties up in a
bunch, cuz he split. I wonder if he even kissed me goodbye I'm sorry, Mama. Now I would never dis my own mama just to get recognition. Take a second to listen for you think this record is dissin,' But put yourself in my position. Just try to envision witnessin' your Mama poppin' prescription pills in the kitchen, bitchin' that someone's always goin' throuh her purse and shits missin.' Going through public housing systems, victim of Münchausen's syndrome. My whole life I was made to believe I was sick when I wasn't 'til I grew up, now I blew up. It makes you sick to ya stomach, doesn't it? Wasn't it the reason you made that CD for me, Ma? So you could try to justify the way you treated me, Ma? But guess what, yer gettin' older now and it's cold when your lonely. An' Nathan's getting' up so quick, he's gonna know that your phoney. And Hailie's getting' so big now, you should see her, she's beautiful. But you'll never see her, she won't even be at your funeral. See what hurts me the most is you won't admit you was wrong. Bitch, do ya song. Keep tellin' yourself that you was a mom. But how dare you try to take what you didn't help me to get. You selfish bitch, I hope you fuckin' burn in hell for this shit. Remember when Ronnie died and you said you wished it was me? Well, guess what, I am dead. Dead to you as can be. I'm sorry, Mama. |
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