3 songs in the Top 10 on iTunes. 4 in the Top 15. This album is going to be huge. It's incredible how he's maintaining this level of success into his 40s. A lot of people thought he'd lose his appeal as he got older, but it's not happening.
[Intro] Yeah, trying to figure out the difference But I think.. I think the lines are starting to get blurry
[Verse 1] I'm in a strange place I feel like Mase when he gave up the game for his faith I feel like I'm caged in these chains and restraints Grinning every stranger in the place while I gaze into space Cause I'm mentally rearranging his face I need a change of pace cause the pace I'm working at is dangerous There's nowhere to dump this anger and thanks to this angst I done quit chicken heads in cold turkey and started slowly roasting 'em Cause that's where most of my anger is based f**k your feelings, I feel like I play for the Saints I just want to hurt you, aim for the skanks Then aim for all these fake Kanye's, Jay's, Wayne's and the Drake's I'm frustrated cause ain't no more N'Sync, now I'm all out of wack I'm all out of Backstreet Boys to call out and attack I'm going all out in this rap s**t and whatever the fallout is I'm strapped for battles, suck a duck, crawl out the back, bar fight Prepare your arsenal and beware of bar stools flying through the air And bottles breaking, mirrors also And I ain't stopping 'til the swear jar's full You done called every woman a slut, but you forgetting Sarah, Marshall Oh my bad, slut And next time I show up in court I'll be naked and square a lawsuit Judge be like ''[?], how much that motherf**ker cost you? Smart ass, you lucky I don't tear it off you And jmp your bones, you sexy motherf**ker You so f**king gravy, Marshall, I should start calling you [?] Cause all you do is spit them lyrics out the [?] Evil twin, take this beat now, it's on you'' I believe people can change, but only for the worse I could've changed the world if it wasn't for this verse So satanic [?] panic Cause they can't even spin back the curse words Cause it works when they're reversed, motherf**ker
And these kids are like parrots They run around the house just like terrorists Screaming ''f**k, s**t, f**k'' Adult with a child is like arrogance Wild ever since the day I came out I was like ''merits, f**k that'' I'd rather be loud and I like swearing From the first album even the gals were like ''tight [?], screamy eyes'' But my f**king mouth was nightmare-ish And from the start of it you felt like you were a part of this And the opposition felt the opposite Sometimes I listen and revisit them old albums Often as I can and skim through all them bitches To make sure I keep up with my competition [?] of beats, hoarder of rhymes Borderline genius who's bored of his lines And that sort of defines where I'm at and the way I feel now Feel like I might just strike first and ignore the replies
[Hook] This darkness comes in me (Evil twin) And comes again
That ain't me
He's just a friend who pops up now and again So don't blame me, blame him
I step out and see my evil twin, he gives me an evil grin
[Interlude] Welcome back to the land of the living, my friend You have slept for quite some time
[Verse 2] So who's left? Lady Gaga? Messed with the Bieber Nah, F with Christina, I ain't f**king with either Jessica neither Simpson or Alba, my albums just sicker than struck with the fever [?] Feel like I'm burning to death, but I'm freezin' Bed-written and destined to never leave the Bedroom ever again like the legend of Heather Ledger My suicide notes, barely legible read the Bottom, it's signed by The Joker Lorraine said I never can leave her She'd sever my wiener I ever deceive her f**k that s**t, bitch Give up my dick for pussy, I'd be Jerry Mathers [?] at the beaver Get them titties cut off trying to mess with the cleaver Golly-wally [?] registered Jesus Ever since 1-9-9-4-6 Dresden it was definite lean My destiny went on the steps, I met Deshaun at Osborn I'd never make it to sophomore I just wanted to skip school and rap, used to mop floors Flip burgers and wash dishes, but I wrote rhymes trying to get props for 'em Cause I took book-smarts and swapped for 'em They was sleeping, I made them stop snorin' Made them break out the popcorn Now I've been hip hop in its tip top form Since N.W.A. was blaring through my car windows leaning on the horn Screaming ''f**k the police'' like cop porn Flipped rap on its ear like I dropped coin f**k top 5, bitch, I'm top 4 ANd that includes Biggie and Pac, whore And I got an evil twin, so who do you think that's 3rd and that 4th spot's for? And as crazy as I am I'm much tamer than him And I'm nuts, then again who the f**k wants to plain Eminem? But no one's insaner than Slim, look at that evil grin (evil twin) Please come in, what was your name again? Hi, giffed Look who's back with a crab up his ass like a lobster crawled up there Two rabbits, a koala bear and a ball of hair And you're all aware I ain't got it all upstairs Guess that's why I'm an addict and it's just small up there Peace to Whitney, geez, just hit me That I should call the looney police to come get me Cause I'm so sick of being the truth I wish somebody finally admit me Into a mental hospital with Britney Oh, LMFAO, no way, ho Jose Baez couldn't beat this rap, OJ no Hooray, I'm off the hook like Casey Anthony Hey ho, hey ho I sound like I'm trying to sing the chorus to f**king hip hop hooray No, I'm hollering, you got bottom in like an a-hole Eight and a base whether I'mf**king off that instead of your face, ho Let your low hand raise, yo Tango, what you think, ho? Slow dancing in the bowling You trying to hold hands with your homie? What? You think I'm looking for romance cause I'm lonely? Change that tune, you ain't got remote chance to control me Ho, I'm only vulnerable when I got a boner Superman tried to f**k me over, it won't hurt Don't try to fix me, I'm broke so I don't work So are you, but you're broke cause you don't work But all bulls**t aside I hit a stride Still Shady inside, hair every bit is dyed As it used to be when I first introduced y'all to my skiddish side And blamed it on him when they tried to criticize Cause we are the same, bitch
Post by THE Overloaded Breast on Oct 31, 2013 4:38:13 GMT -5
I hear you man. I haven't been impressed with any song I have heard off this album, which worries me, as Eminem is the best rapper in the game. I'm starting to think Kendrick Lamar and Drake have stolen his thunder completely. Oh well. You can't be the best forever. People will still buy this CD in droves though, so I am not worried about his sales. His credibility in the rap community, on the other hand...
His credibility in the rap community, on the other hand...
I don't think his credibility could ever be tarnished. He's far too talented. "Encore" & "Relapse" were pretty bad albums but he was/still highly regarded as being the best.
Yeah even his bad albums are better than most rappers better albums but his credibility could be tarnished musically if people feel like he's in the game longer than necessary. For now, he's good but it's not to say that his next couple albums couldn't easily tarnish his credibility if he put out albums worse than Encore and Relapse.
The sign of a bad b!tch. Here for 20st century Queen of Pop God.donna 21st century Queen of Pop God.ney...they make it look so easy. God.ney is comin to town sleighing ur faves since 98’...and you will deal.
Post by Live Your Life on Nov 3, 2013 16:59:40 GMT -5
Rolling Stone gives the album 4/5 stars:
The Marshall Mathers LP 2 is the kind of sequel that gets people shouting at the screen in disbelief before their seats are warmed up. The first song, "Bad Guy," is seven white-knuckled minutes of psycho-rap insanity in which Stan's little brother comes back to chop Slim Shady into Slim Jims, tossing him into the trunk and driving around Detroit – listening to The Marshall Mathers LP, of course. "How's this for publicity stunt? This should be fun/Last album now, 'cause after this you'll be officially done," Em raps, playing his own killer.
Eminem could use a publicity stunt, and The Marshall Mathers LP 2 is just what the therapist ordered. During the 13 years since The Marshall Mathers LP, he's never lost his acrobat-gremlin skills on the mic. But some subsequent albums felt hermetic, perverting rage into rock-star griping on 2004's Encore, horror-show shock tactics on 2009's Relapse and 12-step purging on 2010's Recovery. The Marshall Mathers LP 2 is about reclaiming a certain freewheeling buoyancy, about pissing off the world from a more open, less cynical place; he even says sorry to his mom on "Headlights," where he's joined by Nate Ruess of fun.
Nostalgia is everywhere. Em surrounds himself in allusions to classic hip-hop, like the Beastie Boys samples producer Rick Rubin laces together on "Berzerk." It's telling that the only guest MC is Kendrick Lamar on "Love Game," probably because his slippery syllable-juggling owes a lot to Eminem.
Yet Em's former obsession – his own media image – has been replaced with a 41-year-old's cranky concerns. He's still a solipsistic cretin, but in a more general, everyday sort of way. He raps about how he can't figure out how to download Luda on his computer and waves the Nineties-geek flag with references to Jeffrey Dahmer and the Unabomber. He's playing his best character: the demon spawn of Trailer Hell, America, hitting middle age with his middle finger up his nose while he cleans off the Kool-Aid his kids spilled on the couch.
Much of the album hews to the stark beats and melodies he loves rapping over. But the tracks that lean on classic rock are loopy and hilarious. "Rhyme or Reason" brilliantly flips a sample of the Zombies' "Time of the Season"; when the song asks, "Who's your daddy," Em answers, "I don't have one/My mother reproduced like a Komodo dragon." "So Far . . ." shows some love for a Rust Belt homey by rhyming over Joe Walsh's "Life's Been Good": "Jed Clampett, Fred Sanford, welfare mentality helps to/Keep me grounded, that's why I never take full advantage of wealth/I managed to dwell within these perimeters/Still cramming the shelves full of Hamburger Helper/I can't even help it, this is the hand I was dealt to."
MMLP 2 fits in well in the year of Yeezus and Magna Carta . . . Holy Grail, records by aging geniuses trying to figure out what the hell to do with their dad-ass selves. (It's like hip-hop is the new Wilco or something.) Since Em has always been a mess, he'll probably still be able to give us pause when he's rhyming about retirement ventures through dentures and cleaning out the colostomy bag he wears up inside his saggy drawers. MMLP 3, 2026. Let's do this.
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