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The Ringer

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lyrics to The Ringer / Eminem

{*plane crashes*}

[Intro: Eminem]
Yeah, yo I'm just gonna write down, my first thoughts
See where this takes me
Cause I feel like I wanna punch the world in the fuckin face right now

Let me explain, just how
to make greatness straight out the gate, I'm 'bout to break you down
Ain't no mistakes allowed, but make no mistake I'm 'bout
to rape the al-phabet, I may raise some brows
If I press the issue just to get the anger out (brrrt!)
Full magazine could take Staples out
Savage but ain't thinkin 'bout no +Bank Account+
But bitch, I'm off the chain like Kala Brown!
Motherfucker, shut the fuck up when I'm talkin
Lil' bitch, I'm sorry, wait
What's your talent? Oh, critiquin my talent
Oh, bitch, I don't know
who the fuck y'all are to give a sub-par bar
or even have an opinion of you
You mention me, millions of views
Attention to news, I mention you
Lose-lose for me, win-win for you
Billions of views, your ten cents are two
Skim through the music to give shit reviews
to get clicks, but bitch, you just lit the fuse
Don't get misconstrued, business as us'
Shit-list renewed, so get shit to do
Or get dissed, cause I just don't get
what the fuck half the shit is that you're listenin to, do
you have any idea how much I hate this choppy flow
everyone copies though? Probably no
Get this fuckin audio out my Audi yo, adis
I can see why people like Lil Yachty, but not me though
Not even dissin, it just ain't for me
All I am simply is just an MC
Maybe "Stan" just isn't your cup of tea
Maybe your cup's full of syrup and lean
Maybe I need to stir up shit, preferably
shake the world up if it were up to me
Paul wants me to chill, y'all want me to ill
I should eat a pill, probably I will
Old me kill the new me, watch him bleed to death
I breathe on the mirror, I don't see my breath
Possibly I'm dead, I must be possessed
Like an evil spell, I'm E-V-I-L (evil, spelled)
Jam a Crest Whitestrip
in the tip of my dick with an ice pick
Stick it in a vice grip, hang it on a spike fence
Bang it with a pipe wrench
While I take my ballsack and flick it like a light switch
Let Vice President Mike Pence back up on my shit in a Sidekick
as I lay it on a spike strip
These are things that I'd rather do than hear you on a mic since
nine-tenths of your rhyme is about ice and
Jesus Christ man, how many times is
someone gonna fuck on my bitch? (Fuck my side chick!)
You won't ever see Em icy but as cold as I get
on the M-I-C, I polarize shit
So the temps might freeze and your skull might split
like I passed you upside it
Bitch I got the club on smash like a nightstick
(Yeah) Turn down for what?
I ain't loud enough, nah, turn the volume/Valium up
Cause I don't know how I'm gonna get your mouths to shut
now when it doesn't matter what caliber
I spit at, I'll bet a hundred thousand bucks
you'll turn around and just be like, "Man, how the fuck
sourpuss gonna get mad just cause his album sucks
and now he wants to take it out on us?"
(Oooooh) But last week
an ex-fan mailed me a copy
of "The Mathers LP" to tell me to study
It'll help me get back to myself and she'll love me
(Oooooh) I mailed the bitch back
and said if I did that
I'd just be like everyone else in the fucking industry
Especially an effing "Recovery" clone of me
(NF'ing) So, finger-bang
Chicken wang, MGK, Iggy 'zae
Lil Pump, Lil Xan imitate Lil Wayne
I should aim at everybody in the game, pick a name
I'm fed up with bein +Humble+
And rumor is I'm hungry, I'm sure you heard bumblings
I heard you wanna rumble, like an empty stomach
I heard your mumblin but it's jumbled in mumbo-jumbo
The era that I'm from will pummel you, that's what it's comin to
What the fuck you gonna do when you run into it? I'm gonna crumble you
And I'll take a number two and dump on you, if you ain't Joyner
If you ain't Kendrick or Cole or Sean then you're a goner
I'm 'bout to bring it to anyone in this bitch who want it
I guess when you walk into BK you expect a Whopper
You can order a Quarter Pounder when you go to McDonald's
But if you're lookin to get a porterhouse you better go get "Revival"
But y'all are actin like I tried to serve you up a slider
Maybe the vocals shoulda been Auto-Tuned and you woulda bought it
But sayin I no longer got it cause you missed the line and never caught it
cause it went over your head because you're too stupid to get it
Cause you're mentally retarded but pretend to be the smartest
With your expertise and knowledge, but you'll never be an artist
And I'm harder on myself than you could ever be regardless
What I'll never be is flawless, all I'll ever be is honest
Even when I'm gone they're gonna say I brought it
Even when I hit my forties like a fuckin alcoholic
With a bottle full of malt liquor but I couldn't bottle this shit any longer
The fact that I know that I'ma hit my bottom
If I don't pull myself from the jaws of defeat, and rise to my feet
I don't see why y'all even started with me
I get impeached, my enemies die, I don't cease
fire 'til at least all are deceased
I'm eastside, never be caught slippin, now you see
why I don't sleep, not even a wink, I don't blink
I don't doze off, I don't even nod to the beats
I don't even close my fuckin eyes when I sneeze!
"Oh, man! That BET cypher was weak
It was garbage, The Thing ain't even orange
Oh my God, that's a reach!"
Shout to all my colorblind people
Each and everyone of y'all, if you call a fire engine green
Aquamarine, or you think water is pink
"Dawg, that's a date." "Looks like an olive to me."
"Look, there's an apple." "No it's not, it's a peach!"
So finger-bang, Pootie Tang
Burger King, "Gucci Gang", dookie dang
Charlamagne gonna hate anyway, doesn't matter what I say
Give me Donkey of the Day, what a way
for 2018 to get underway
But I'm gonna say everything that I wanna say
Welcome to the slaughterhouse - bitch! (yeah)
Invite 'em in/vitamin like a One A Day
I'm not done (preach) cause I feel like the beast of burden
That line in the sand, was it even worth it?
Cause the way I see people turning's
makin it seem worthless, it's startin to defeat the purpose
I'm watchin my fan base shrink to thirds and
I was just tryin to do the right thing, but word, has
the court of public opinion reached a verdict
or still yet to be determined?
Cause I'm determined to be me, critique the worship
But if I could go back, I'd at least reword it
And say I empathize with the people this evil serpent
sold the dream to that he's deserted
But I think it's workin
These verses, are makin him a wee bit nervous
And he's too scurred to, answer me with words
Cause he knows that he will, lyrically get murdered
But I know at least he's heard it
Cause Agent Orange just sent the Secret Service
to meet in person to see if I really think of hurtin him
Or ask if I'm linked to terrorists
I said, "Only when it comes to ink and lyricists"
But my beef is more media journalists
Hold up, hold up, hold up
I said my beef is more meaty, a journalist
can get a mouthful of flesh
And yes, I mean eating a penis
Cause they been pannin my album to death
So I been givin the media fingers
Don't wanna turn this to a counselling sesh'
But they been puttin me through the ringer/wringer
So I ain't ironin shit out with the press
But I just took this beat to the cleaners

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Eminem The Ringer lyrics

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