Hip Hop
Eminem, Bizarre
Yeah, huh (hip hop, hip hop, hip hop)
Turn my mic up a little bit (hip hop)
Hit some of this Cali guido (hip hop)
Listen to some motherfuckin', haha (hip hop)
Everybody got a lil' story they gotta tell
Niggas ain't heard my shit, hahaha
The life of Bizarre, what?
Hip hop (hip hop), that's the way of life (word?)
If you think you're nice, then go grab the mic (grab it)
Let me tell you my story, 'cause everybody got one
Grab a pen and pad, and start to jot some
Always told myself that I would never be losin'
Man, I ain't have no hood, my mother was always movin' (damn)
From Detroit to Texas, Texas to Detroit (yo, ma)
Goddamn, mama, what's the point? (The fuck?)
So I would go in my room and pack my little bags (ugh)
Jump in the truck with my step-dad
When I was 10 years old, I started to feel the hunger
Got a little older, man, the force got stronger (yeah)
And me and my rap partner wasn't seein' eye to eye
So we picked up and started a group with some other guys (haha)
This is hip hop (hip hop)
Man, I won't stop
Yo, Big Boi (what up?)
Give me a beatbox
Hip hop, hip hop
Hip hop
Hip hop
Hip hop
From the Hip Hop Shop to Maurice Malone (uh-huh)
Ten years later, I'm still in the zone (word?)
7 Mile and Foyer where a star was born (yeah)
United we stand, divided we swore (D12)
And hell yeah, I looked in my car (yeah)
Bitch, I was homeless, I would've slept in a jar (haha)
And Dirty Management, I wish y'all the best
But me and my niggas, we had to do what's best (that's right)
It was a mess, all the taxes and accounts (what?)
Checks started to bounce, niggas couldn't by an ounce (hell yeah)
And now that we platinum, they diss our name (what?)
Like we won't go the car and get them things
And beef, sometimes you don't have a choice
To the fight with Whitey Ford to the beef with Royce (what?)
To the Ja Rules, Benzinos, and the niggas in the club
To the E Dubbs and niggas that you ain't heard of
And, man, I don't know how to use a gun (nah)
But I'll learn quick if the fuckin' beef come
Hip hop, hip hop
Hip hop
Hip hop
Hip hop
Yeah, yeah
Man, I thought this was supposed to be hip hop, hip hop
I'd rather be fishin' in flip flops, flip flops
Or cross over to country like Kid Rock, did, I
Can't see no country singers beefin' over some guitar
Riff that Willie Nelson lifted from Bob Seeger
When I was younger I was so eager
To have a gun I would do the same
Couldn't wait to get to the shootin' range
Me and my man Goofy Gary just tryna let loose some steam
Motherfuckers laughin' 'cause I couldn't aim
So I pulled the fuckin' target closer and just shoot the thing
I used to have this theory, keep three bullets in the gun
It was a mandatory year up here in Michigan
For each bullet if you got no CCW license
I tried to apply for one, they said it take five, six months
What the fuck am I supposed to do mean time when rivals come?
Hide that son of a bitch in the glove box or inside the trunk
Now back to what my three bullet theory was
I'm triple-platinum, I ain't tryna catch no murder one
Figured I'd shoot to wound, probably miss with at least one
But them other two gon' fuck his shoulder and his kneecap up
And I'ma say for self-defense, "how come I had the gun?"
"Was because I was at the range, on my way back from"
This dude approached me on some bullshit
I'll get a year for each bullet at the most as opposed to havin' a full clip in that
That was my idiotic logic, it was basically for safety
But it gave me power, and it made me crazy
And psychotic, I just got retarded once I got it
Thank God it was empty the night I got caught with it
What the fuck, man? I thought that it was supposed to be
Hip hop, hip hop
Hip hop
Hip hop
Hip hop
Written by: Marshall B. Mathers III, Rufus Johnson, Tony CottrellLyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Songtrust AveLyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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