Eminem
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Alfred's Theme

Eminem


Before I check the mic (Check, check, one, two)
I give it an extra swipe with a Lysol disinfectant wipe (Good evening)
Coronavirus in effect tonight
Antiseptics on deck, I got every type (Yeah)
I throw on my tux, then I (Yeah) give zero fucks, then I (Yeah)
Act like a jockstrap (Uh) , cup my nuts, then I (Yeah)
Check my ball hair (What?) , make sure it's all there (Yeah)
Then call the pallbearer (Yeah)
It's Music to Bе Murdered By again, why stop?
Overkill likе a pipe bomb in your pine box
You're all hitched to my cock (What?)
Went from punchin' a time clock to getting my shot
Then treated it like a cyclops
Like it's the only one I got
And my thoughts are like nines cocked (Chk-chk)
Every line's obscene, pervertedest mind, got the dirtiest rhyme stocked
That's why there's parental advising every time I drop
So throw on the theme to Alfred, I'll channel him like the Panama Canal
But how could I get up in arms about you saying trash is all that I put out?
Bitch, I still get the bag when I'm putting garbage out
Plus, the potty mouth, I'm not about to wash it out
The filthiest, so all this talk about "I'm washed up", how preposterous
Because if cleanliness is next to godliness
It's obvious that it's impossible for me to be beside myself
And I'm 'bout that capital like a proper noun
Still on top the pile
Got me sitting on numbers like a pocket dial
Quick to call you out on your bullshit
Don't make me give that crock a dial
'Cause if I do, it's see you later, alligator
Made it out the trailer, then I made a vow to cater to no one
So hate, I've gained about the same amount that's in my bank account
So here's some more shit for you to complain about, I say the
Bars that never slack, but always get attacked (Yeah)
I think they're gunnin' for me, it's startin' to feel like that
Like I'm marked, 'cause when I rap, it's like fallin' on my back in a tar pit
'Cause I have this target on my back (Ew, yuck)
But if I ever double-crossed my fans and lost my Stans
I'd probably pop five Xans (Yeah)
Go in my garage, start my van
Inhale as much carbon monoxide and exhaust I can
And doze off like *snores*, but odds like that with these thoughts I have's
Like a giant getting squashed by ants
If this is the test of time, I'd pass with flying colors
Like I just tossed my crayons (Tossed my crayons)
Small, medium, and large size cans
Sanitizers of all types, brands, cost nine bands
Which is a small price for Lysol wipes and
If my palms brush across my pants, I wash my hands

Shit, hold on, man
Motherfucker
Happy birthday to—
Fuck (Shh, quiet)

I sit in silence in candlelit environments
Sipping Wild Irish while getting violent
Homicidal visions when I'm spitting like this
But really I'm just fulfilling my wish of killing rhymes
Which is really childish and silly, but I'm really like this
I'm giving nightmares to Billie Eilish, I'm Diddy's side bitch

What the fuck? Hold on, wait
"I'm Diddy's side bitch"?
Oh, I'm still east side, bitch

So until the E-N-D, since EPMD
Been givin' y'all the business (Yeah) , D. R. E and me (Yup)
From the MMLP to MTBMB (Bitch)
Bitch, it's 2020, you still ain't seein' me (Haha)
So call me Santa Clause (Santa Clause)
'Cause at the present (Yeah) , I out-rap 'em all, I'm at the mall
Got your bitch in a bathroom stall, she could suck a basketball (Uh)
Through a plastic straw (Yeah) with a fractured jaw (Damn)
My dick is coat check (Ha) , she wanna jack it off (Yeah)
I'm so far passed the bar, I should practice law
Mentally, I'm fucked up generally (Duh)
Duke's a hazard car, get the cadaver, dawgs
'Cause this is murder, murder and you get murked, murked
This music 'bout to kill you, brr, brr (Brr)
This chicken hit my phone, she said "Chirp, chirp"
I said, "Hut, hut, hike your skirt, skirt"
Then go eat some worms, like the early bird
What the fuck is love? That's a dirty word
Make me fall in it, there's not a girl on Earth
Or any other planet, that's a world of hurt
And I won't buy her designer, 'cause I don't pander
But I'm back with so many knots, I need a chiropractor (Damn)
And this the final chapter, 'cause I'm either frying after
Or they're gon' give me the needle (What?) like a vinyl scratcher
Yeah, I'm a card, like Hallmark at Walmart with a small cart buying wall art
And y'all who claim to be dawgs aren't
No bite like a tree mostly just all bark, arf, arf
But y'all pickin' the wrong tree, they call me dog because I'm barking (Bark, bark)
And I got a lot, yeah, like where cars park
I describe it as bowling (Why?) ball hard (Ball's hard)
'Cause the gutter's where my mind is in when
It's in this frame, better split like the five and the ten
'Cause without a second to spare, I'm strikin' again
And when the beat is up my alley, I go right for the pins
The cypher begins, I'm talkin' smack like heroin
The mic's a syringe, it's like a binge, Vicodin
I would like to pretend my mind's a recycling bin
There's no place I never been, but I never budge and I never bend
You hyperextend on me, this game's life, it depends
Like adult diapers for men, even when I'm rappin' less stellar
It's sour grapes, I still whine, I'm the best seller
Like a train do spray you as these shots penetrate through Dre's booth
And goes straight through your grapefruit, no escape route
So you won't leave me at your scathe, with a few scrape wounds
Your ass is grass and I am not gonna graze you
But a bar's [?] , I need a Mad Hatter
'Cause I got so many caps, and you don't have any straps (Nah)
You'd be a fitted (Yeah) , so don't act like you're fittin' to snap
Bitch, I'll pee on your head, like a Philly's hat (Haha)
No stoppin' me, you're on a window shopping spree
Bitch, you probably go broke at the Dollar Tree
You never buy shit, all you ever cop's a plea
You're always punkin' out like Halloween
You rather opt to flee, you need to stop it, punk
Homie, you not a G, act like you got the pump
You're gonna pop the heat or get the Glock and go
Bitch, if you shot a tree, you wouldn't pop the trunk
Yeah, and I'm buddies with Alfred, we about to disembowel, then gut 'em and scalp 'em
Yeah, this is 'bout to be the bloodiest outcome
'Cause we gon' make you bleed with every cut from this album
So I'm choppin' 'em up like Dahmer
The nut job with the nuts that are bigger than Jabba the Hutt
I'm in the cut, and I'm out for the blood
It's lookin' like it's that time of the month
Carvin' 'em up with the bars while I sharpen 'em up, dawg
I'm the mutt, I'm gonna fuck your mom in the butt with a thermometer, fuckin' phenomenal
But y'all looking cut the fuck up like abdominals
If you don't vaminos, I keep droppin' like dominos
The formidible, abominable, stomp in a mudhole
Even if it's off the top of the dome, saw 'em get the Coppertone
I'm at the stop-and-go, hop on the mop and gloat
Got your stomach in knots like you swallowed rope
You out of pocket though, like a motherfuckin' wallet stole

Wait, why'd the beat cut off?
Fuck it

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