RAP GOD

For six minutes, for six minutes, chiga, for six minutes, for six minutes, Slim Shady you're on/ 'chiga-chick, chick-chick on, chiga-chick chick, on... (repeat) Verse1 I'm beginnin' to feel like a Rap God, Rap God/ all my people from the front to the back nod, back nod/ now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box/ they said I rap like a robot, so call me rap-bot/ but for me to rap like a computer must be in my genes I got a laptop in my back pocket/ my pen'll go off when I half-cock it, got a fat knot from that rap profit/ made a livin' and a killin' off it/ ever since Bill Clinton was still in office/ with Monica Lewinski feelin' on his nutsack, I'm an MC still as honest/ but as rude and indecent as all hell, syllables skill-a-holic, kill ‘em all wit'/ this flippity dippity-hippity hip-hop you don't really wanna get into a pissin' match wit' this rappity-rap/ packin' a mack in the back of the Ac, backpack rap crap yap-yap yackety-yack/ and at the exact same time I attempt these lyrical acrobat stunts, while I'm practicin' that/ I'll still be able to break a motha-fuckin' table over the back of a couple of faggots and crack it in half/ only realized it was ironic, I was signed to Aftermath after the fact/ how could I not blow? All I do is drop “F” bombs, feel my wrath of attack/ rappers are havin' a rough time period, here's a Maxi-Pad/ it's actually disastrously bad-for the wack while I'm masterfully constructin' this master piece (yeah) cuz... Verse2 I'm beginnin' to feel like a Rap God, Rap God/ all my people from the front to the back nod, back nod/ now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box/ let me show you maintainin' this shit ain't that hard, that hard/ everybody want the key and the secret to rap immortality like I have got/ well to be truthful the blueprint's simply rage and youthful exuberance/ everybody loves to root for a nuisance, hit the earth like an asteroid and did nothin' but shoot for the moon since/ (ppeeyoom) MC's get taken to school wit' this music ‘cuz I use it/ as a vehicle to ‘bus the rhyme', now I lead a New School full of students/ me? Me, I'm a product of Rakim, Lakim Shabazz, Tupac, N-W-A, Cube, hey Doc, Ren, Yella, Eazy thank you, they got Slim/ inspired enough to one day grow up blow up and bein' in a position/ to meet Run-D.M.C and induct them into the mothafuckin' Rock‘N/ Roll Hall of Fame even tho I'll walk in the church and burst in a ball of flames, only hall of fame I'll be inducted in is the alco-hol of fame, on the wall of shame/ you fags think it's all a game, ‘til I walk-a-flock of flames/ off a plank and tell me what in the fuck are you thinkin'?/ little gay lookin boy, so gay I can barely say it wit a ‘straight' face lookin' boy/ you're witnessin' a mass-occur like you're watchin a church gatherin' take place lookin' boy/ oy vey, that boy's gay that's all they say lookin' boy/ you get a thumbs up, pat on the back and a“way to go” from your label every day lookin' boy/ hey lookin' boy, what'd ya say lookin' boy? I get a“hell yeah!” from Dre lookin' boy/ I'm a work for everything I have never asked nobody for shit, git out my face lookin' boy/ basically boy, you're never gonna be capable of keepin' up wit' the same pace lookin' boy/ 'cuz... Verse3 I'm beginnin' to feel like a Rap God, Rap God/ all my people from the front to the back nod, back nod/ the way I'm racin' around the track call me NASCAR, NASCAR/ Dale Earnhardt of the trailer park, the White Trash God/ kneel before General Zod this planet's Krypton, no Asgard, Asgard/ so you be Thor and I'll be Odin, you rodent, I'm omnipotent/ let-off then I'm reloadin' immediately wit these bombs I'm totin'/ and I should not be woken/ I'm the walkin' dead but I'm just a talkin' head, a zombie floatin', but I got your mom deep throatin'/ I'm out my Ramen Noodle, we have nothin' in common, poodle/ I'm a Doberman, pinch yourself in the arm and pay homage pupil/ it's me my honesty's brutal/ but it's honestly futile, if I don't utilize what I do though/ for good at least once in a while, so I wanna make sure somewhere in this chicken scratch, I scribble and doodle/ enough rhymes ta maybe try to help git some people through tuff times/ but I gotta keep a few punch lines just in case ‘cuz even you unsigned/ rappers are hungry lookin' at me like it's lunchtime/ I know there was a, time where once I/ was king of the underground, but I still rap like I'm on my Pharoahe Monch grind/ so I crunch rhymes, but sometimes, when you combine/ appeal wit' the skin color of mine, you git too big and here they come tryin'/ ta censor you like that one line, I said on ‘I'm Back” from the Mathers LP one when I tried to say I'll take seven kids from Columbine/ put ‘em all in a line add an AK-47, a revolver and a nine/ see if I git away wit' it now that I ain't as big as I was but I'm/ morphin' into an immortal, comin' through the portal/ you're stuck in a time warp from 2004, though/ and I don't know what the fuck that you rhyme for you're pointless as Rapunzel, wit' fuckin' cornrows/ you write normal, fuck bein' normal/ and I just bought a new ray gun from the future just to come and shoot ya like when Fabulous made Ray J. mad/ 'cuz Fad said he looked like a fag, at Mayweather's pad singin' to a man while he play piano/ man-o-man, that was the 24-7 special on the cable channel/ so Ray J. went straight to radio station the very next day, “hey Fad/ I'ma kill you!” lyrics comin' at you at supersonic speed (JJ Fad)/ uh-summa lumma dooma lumma you assumin' I'm a human, what I gotta do to get it through to you, I'm superhuman/ innovative and I'm made of rubber so that anything you say, is ricochet'in' off'a me and it'll glue to you and/ I'm devastating more that ever demonstrating how to give a mothafuckin' audience, a feeling like it's levitating/ never fading, and I know the haters are forever waiting, for the day that they can say I fell off they'll be celebrating/ 'cuz I know the way ta get ‘em motivated, I make elevating music you make elevator music/ ”oh he's too mainstream” well that's what they do when they get jealous, they confuse it/ ”it's not hip-hop, it's pop”/ 'cuz I found a hella way to fuse it/ with rock, shock-rap wit Doc, throw on“Lose Yourself” and make ‘em lose it/ I don't know how to make songs like that, I don't know what words to use/ let me know when it occurs to you, while I'm rippin' any one of these verses, that vs. you/ it's curtains, I'm inadvertently hurtin' you how many verses I gotta murder to/ prove that if you were half as nice, your songs you could sacrifice virgins to/ unghh, school flunky, pill junky/ but look at the accolades these skills brung me, full of myself, but still hungry/ I bully myself, cuz I make me do what I put my mind to and I'm a million leagues above you/ ill when I speak in tongues, but it's still tongue-and-cheek fuck you/ I'm drunk, so Satan take the fucking wheel I'm asleep in the front seat/ bumping Heavy D. & the Boyz “still chunky but funky”/ but, in my head there's something I can feel tugging and struggling/ angels fight wit' devils and here's what they want from me/ they're askin' me to eliminate some of the woman hate, but if you take into consideration the bitter hatred/ I have then you may be a little patient and more sympathetic to the situation and understand the discrimination/ but fuck it, life's handin' you lemons-make lemonade, then/ but if I can't batter the woman, how the fuck am I ‘sposed to bake ‘em a cake then?/ don't mistake him for Satan/ it's a fatal mistake if you think I need to be overseas and take a vacation/ to trip-a-broad and make her fall on her face and/ don't be a retard, be a king? Think not?/ why be a King, when you can be a God?