Session One - Eminem

Ladies and gentlemen, make some noise!
Aw shit, yeah
Y’all ready to get this shit started or what?
Aight, well I brought some friends with me too

Now I ain’t back just for the sake of just sayin’ I’m back
I could relax but I’d rather stack ammo on tracks
Couple Xanax, light a couple wax candles then black
out and relapse ’til I yack Jack Daniels and ‘gnac
Burp bubbles, attitude’s immaturin’
Double shot of Bacardi, party, vision is blurrin’
Whoa-oh, I can’t see shit, my words get to slurrin’
Uh-oh! You can call me R. Kelly now, you’re in trouble!
What’s occurin’ befo’, after and durin the show
has no bearing on the bad news I’m baring, whoa
What is it, wordplay? No I’m pushin’ you out the do’
So suck my dick on the couch if you wanna cushion the blow
Now stomp your fuckin feet ’til you get to squishin’ a hoe
It’s pandemo-nium standin’ know when you see him, oh
Damn baby you look good, you’re givin’ me wood
You should, pull over like a sweat-shirt with a hood
It’s neck work, get her polly on, you and me both
Break bread while I’m coppin’ over this game to pinch a loaf
Now homie who’s your favorite pain in the ass?
Who claims to be spittin’ the same flames as me? I’m Kanye when he crashed
In other words I got the hood on smash like I stepped on the gas
Destroyed the front end, deployed the damn airbags from the dash
Went through ’em and laughed
Came back an hour after the accident and bit a goddamn Jawbreaker in half!
So stop fakin’ the funk and start shakin’ your ass
Slaughterhouse in the house with the caucasian of rap
and Just Blaze on the track, what’s the fuck’s more amazin than that?
Slut, answer me that, Royce where you at?

I’m right here Fire Marshall, verbal pair of pliers I pry apart you
Lump on your head designed by a bar stool
Designed by a cartoon
Before I need to be hired, Jimmy Io’ fire Marshall
The 9 tucked against the linin’
I pull it out and flip your partner upside-down like y’all are a couple 69’in
It’s like Rick James is shootin up your house nigga!
FUCK YO’ COUCH NIGGA!
You’re screamin’ fuck the world with your middle finger up
While I’m over here shovin’ my dick in a hole in the mud
My bitch, know I’m perfectly fit, for murder
because I murdered her, so you can call me Nickel to O.J. to Glove
I got a Posse of Insane Clowns
Blow your brains on your opposite ear, and ask you how your brain sounds
Bad, Evil, we go Alfred, immune in mad cerebral
You on your last burrito!
(What that mean Nickel?) It’s a wrap if you eatin’
Get a beat then terrorize that bitch like I’m Middle Eastern
Slaughterhouse on FIRE, nobody touchin’ that
Good day and good night, Ortiz yo where the FUCK you at?

I’m right here in my Nike Airs, Buzz Light-years
ahead of my mic peers, quite scary to look at a nightmare
Where my book at? I write fear in the heart of you tight squares
I harbor the art, of you nice swear {?}
It’s type weird cause that made me hotter than my dear
Uncle Al’s breath after polishin’ off his ninth beer
Homie chill, listen, I swear
I’m God, I give tracks a Holy-feel, and they bite ears
I’m right here, why wouldn’t I be?
Just waitin to be hooked to IV as {?} as well when you look at my pee
And this joint, no exception, so just point a direction
And record the pig’s oink, when I rip his intestine
This isn’t just an infection
This won’t go away with penicillin injections
Millions of questions arose after they did an inspection, what I exhibit
seems to be non-contagious yet anybody can get it
Aw shiddit, I did it again, when I liddift this pen
I emitted this phlegm, this time it’s alongside Emiddinem
So tell a friend to tell a friend write a disgustin’ hook
Jump in shark water and swim, yo where the fuck is Crook?

Photo credit: Discogs

Lyrics added by Marse