Video Fuck You Lab Rat Remix » Eminem Lyrics | Musica Hip Hop

Eminem - Fuck You Lab Rat Remix Lyrics

[Verse 1: Eminem]
Met a retarded kid named Greg with a wooden leg
Snatched it off, beat him over the fucking head with a peg
Go to bed with the keg, wake up with a 40 mixed up with alka seltzer and formula 4D
Fuck a acid tab, I strap the whole sheet to my forehead
Wait till it absorbed in then I fell to the floor dead
No more saying, case closed end of discussion
I'm blowing up like spontaneous human combustion
Leavin' you in the aftermath of Holocaust and traumas
Across the the bombers, we blowin' up your house
Killing your parents, and coming back to get for mamas
And I'm as good as keeping a promise as Nostradamus
I ain't making no more threats. I'm doing drive by's in tinted corvettes on Vietnam war vets
I'm more or less sick in the head. Maybe more
Cause' I smoked cracked today, yesterday, and the day before
Saboteur, walk the block with a Labrador
Strapped with more corral for war than El Salvador
Foul style galore. Verbal cow manure
Comin' together like an eyebrow on Al B. Sure!
I'm the illest rapper to hold a cordless. Patrolling Corners
Looking for hookers to punch in the mouth for a roll of quarters
I'm meaner in action than Roscoe
Beating James Todd Senior, smacking his back with vacuum cleaner attachments
I grew up in a wild hood, was a hazardous youth
With a fucked up childhood that I use as an excuse
And ain't shit change, I kept the same mind state since the 3rd time I failed 9th grade
You prolly think that I'm a negative person. Don't be so sure of it
I don't promote violence, I just encourage it
I laugh at the sight of death, cause' I fall down a cement flight of steps and land inside a bed of spider webs
Throw cautions in the wind, you and a friend can jump off a bridge and if you live do it again
Shit why not! Blow your brain out. I'm blowing mine out
Fuck it, You only live once, you might as well die now!
[Verse 2: Dr. Dre]
I squat like a blunts tips, something cavi
Making green like Mitch. Gift rap vocals dispatch
With every attempt I had this game shook up
When Dre cook up. Every thug look up
Chronic got me on chill. Eyes bloodshot heavy built
Lay a nigga out like quil. Clear the guilt!
I rock Corollas from low riders to henny toasters
Cut off dead weight to keep my formulas Kosher
Accept no invitations. Dre losing his stack
Slimmest chances, of Michael Jackson getting his black fans back. My reputation is like a tech nine, and I got the best in the circle
Three minutes wreck[?] time. See the hand faster than the eye can chase it
Dre, b-real, soul assassins got potential buttons activated
No illusion I have you caught up in a rapture
Executive decisions, from the mother fucking puppet master