Eminem - Fight Music [Hell of a party] (Feat. Kon Artis, Bizarre, Proof, Swifty McVay & Kuniva) | Текст песни

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• Eminem
• Fight Music [Hell of a party] (Feat. Kon Artis, Bizarre, Proof, Swifty McVay & Kuniva)

Chorus: Eminem:
This kind of music, use it,
And you get amped to do shit
Whenever you hear some shit
And you can't refuse it
It's just some shit,
For these kids,
To trash they rooms with
Just refuse whenever
They asked
To do shit
The type of shit that you don't have
To ask who produced it
You just know - that's the new shit
The type of shit
That causes mass confusion
And drastic movement
Of people
Actin stupid

Kon Artis:
I come to every club
With intention to do harm
With a prosthetic arm
And smellin like Boone's Farm
Hidin under tables as soon as
I hear alarms
Paranoid thief that'll
Steal from his own moms
Connivin Kon, Artis with a bomb
Strapped to my stomach
Screamin, "Let's get it on!"
A lush that love to drink,
Вrunk drivin a tank
Rollin over a bank,
Сops see me and faint
It's drastic,
I'm past my limit of coke

I think I'll up my high
Иy slittin your throat
Push your baby carriage
Into the street, 'til it's mince meat
Your mens been beat the minute

I step onto your street
This is fight music!

Bizarre:
You know why my hands are so numb?
(No)
Cause my grandmother sucked my dick
And I didn't come (oh)
Smacked this whore
For talkin crap (bitch)
So what if she's handicapped,
The bitch said Bizarre couldn't rap

I fuckin hate you;
I'll take your drawers down and rape you
While Dr. Dre videotapes you (hell yeah!)

Satan done got me on this song
Eatin a hot dog readin the Holy Qu'ran,
While I'm on the john
Tired of wearin this yellow thong
Take it back Sisqo, you know
Where it belongs (thong th-thong thong)
Now here's a gun,
I'll put it in your palm
Now go over there
And blow up Dru Hill's arms
Fuck your love songs

Chorus:

Proof:
Just bring who you gon' bring on,
Who you gon' swing on?
I'm King Kong,
Guns blow you to king-dom come
Show you machine gun funk
Sixteen m-16's
And one pump [click-clack]
The snub in my paw,
Shove it in your jaw
Have you runnin out
This fuckin club in your drawers
We lovin the broads,
There's nothin to applaud
But fuck it it's all good,
The hood is up in The Source
It's fight music

Swifty McVay:
I'm a nigga that loves scuffles
And won't hesitate to sock
You again for swollen knuckles
I'm like that, catch a nigga
Like bear traps
Blow his head back right in front
Of the priest sayin, "You hear that?"
I slap your freak,
Bump you and won't speak
If you step on my feet,
You get drowned in your own drink
I suffocated my shrink just for talkin
Came back and fucked up his pallbearers
And made 'em drop his coffin
It's fight music!

Kuniva:
These beads I'm swingin is stingin 'em
See all these niggaz?
When I step in the club,
I'm bringin 'em
If any nigga lookin too hard,
We Rodney King'n 'em
Malice green to them
And gasolinin 'em with premium
Light a cigarette,
Flick it at 'em or spit it at 'em
Hold up a picture of his family
And kick it at him
Blast while you right hookin,
Right when your wife's lookin
Fuck fight music, bitch this is
Losin your life music!

Eminem:
If I could capture the rage
Of today's youth and bottle it
Crush the glass from my bare hands
And swallow it
Then spit it back
In the faces of you racists
and hypocrites who think
The same shit but don't say shit
You Liberace's, Versace's, and you nazis
Watch me, cause you thinkin
You got me in this hot seat
You motherfuckers wanna JUDGE me
Cause you're NOT me
You'll never STOP me,
I'm TOP speed as you POP me
I came to save
These new generations of babies
from parents

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