Eminem – Session One (2010) | Track profile | Dork

Eminem – Session One (2010) | Track profile | Dork

Lyrics

Session One

[Intro: Eminem]

Ladies and gentlemen, make some noise

Aw, shit, yeah

You ready to get this shit started or what? Aight

Well, I brought some friends with me too

[Verse 1: Eminem]

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'—woah-ho

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 occurrin' before, after, and durin' the show

Has no bearin' on the bad news I'm bearin', woah

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 squishing a ho

It's pandemo-nium, standing o when you see him, oh

Damn, baby, you look good, you're givin' me wood

You should pull over like a sweatshirt with a hood

It's neck work, get our 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 the fuck's more amazin' than that

Slut? Answer me that, Royce, where you at?

[Verse 2: Royce da 5’9”]

I'm right here, Fire Marshall, verbal pair of pliers, I pry apart you

Lump on your head designed by a barstool

Designed by a cartoon

Before I need to be hired, Jimmy, I'll fire Marshall

The 9 tucked against the linin'

I pull it out and flip your partner upside-down like y'all are a couple 69ing

It's like Rick James is shootin' up your house, nigga!

Fuck your couch, nigga!

You 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 Nicole 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 E. Neumann

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?

[Verse 3: Joell Ortiz]

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'll write fear in the heart of you tight squares

I harbor the art of you nice wear

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 waiting to be hooked to IV

As Mumm-Ra's 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 intestines)

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 (What?)

Seems to be non-contagious yet anybody can get it

Oh, I shid-dit, I did it again, when I lid-dift this pen

I emitted this phlegm, this time it's alongside Ede-minem

So, tell a friend to tell a friend write a disgusting hook

Jump in shark water and swim, yo, where the fuck is Crook?

[Verse 4: Crooked I]

I'm right here, lettin' the shotty pop, quick as a karate chop

Get your body shot, get your top chopped, like a lollipop

Call it “Maserati drop”, in the body shop

Get your mommy knocked and your Uncle Tommy molli-wopped

I take your life to the ninth innin'

A knife in the gunfight, I love it, me and my knife winnin'

I laugh, when you fall, the shit'll be funny

I'll buy my bitch a new ass and watch her sit on my money

Man, all the bitches holla—they wanna drop my britches

Then jaw on my dick and swallow, leave drawers in this Impala

I ball like Iguodala, I bear more arms than six koalas

As soon as I draw, get sent to Allah

Bi-linguist don, I kill with the tongue, I'm Atilla the Hun

I'm Genghis Khan, I'm a genius spawn

I pillage your village for fun, an egregious con

A syllable gun, real as they come, Long Beach Saddam

Slaughterhouse equals swine flu, are South flying

We do it to try to do without tryin' (Slaughterhouse)

'Cause to it's us it's so easy

Where's "Jumpoff" Joe Beezy?

Lyrics provided by LRCLIB

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