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Almost Famous

Eminem

Recovery


I can almost taste it
This shit makes no sense to me
What does it all mean?
I can almost taste it
I can almost see it
This shit makes no sense to me
What does it all mean?
I can almost taste it
I can almost taste it

Can't stop now
This might be the last chance I get to be famous
(I just wanna be famous)

You dream of trading places
I have been changing faces
You cannot fill these shoes
There is too much to lose
Wake up behind these trenches
You run around defenseless
There is too much to lose
You cannot fill these shoes
I just wanna be famous, but
Be careful what you wish for

I stuck my dick in this game like a rapist
They call me Slim Roethlisberger
I go berserker than a fed-up post office worker
I murk her with a Mossberg
I'm pissed off, get murdered
Like someone took a ketchup squirter
Squirted a frankfurter
For a gangster, you sure did shit your pants
When you saw the chainsaw get to waving
Like a terrible towel
How thangs turn around when his fangs come out
Get your brains blown out
That's what I call blowin' your mind
When I come back, like nut on your spine
I'm a thumb tack that you slept on, son
Now here I come, screaming "Attack! "
Like I just stepped on one
Low on the totem 'til he showed 'em defiance
Giant scrotum
He don't owe them bitches shit
His britches, he outgrowed 'em
He's so out cold
He's knocked out at the South Pole
And nobody fucks with him
Rigor mortis and post mortem
He's dyin' of boredom
Take your best rhymes, record 'em
Then try to thwart him
He'll just take your punch lines and snort 'em
Shit-stained drawers, you gon' fuck with a guy
Who licks the blades of his chainsaws
While he dips 'em in P. F. Chang's sauce?
Game's up, homie
Hang it up like some crank calls
You think I'm backin' down?
You must be out of your dang skulls
I'm almost famous

You dream of trading places
I have been changing faces
You cannot fill these shoes
There is too much to lose
Wake up behind these trenches
You run around defenseless
There is too much to lose
You cannot fill these shoes
I just wanna be famous, but
Be careful what you wish for

I'm back for revenge
I lost a battle, that ain't happenin' again
I'm at your throat like strep
I step, strapped with a pen
Metaphors wrote on my hand
Some are just stored in my memory
Some I wrote on a napkin
I do what I have to to win
Pullin' out all stops
Any who touch a mic prior's
Not even Austin Powers
How the fuck are they Mike Myers?
And tell that psycho to pass the torch to the wacko
'Fore I take a shit in his Jack-O-Lantern
And smash it on his porch
Now get off my dick!
'Dick''s too short of a word for my dick
Get off my antidisestablishmentarianism, you prick!
Don't call me the Champ
Call me the Space Shuttle Destroyer
I just blew up the Challenger
Matter fact, I need a lawyer
I just laced my gloves with
Enough plaster to make a cast
Beat his ass naked
And peed in his corner like Verne Troyer
Y'all are Eminem backwards: you're Mini Mes
See, he's in a whole nother weight class
He's slugs, you're BBs: you're bean-bag bullets
You're full of it
You were dissin' his CD's, laughed at Infinite
Now he's back like someone pissed in his wheaties
No peace treaties, he's turned into a beast
His new Slim Shady EP's
Got the attention of the mighty D. R. E
He's almost famous

You dream of trading places
I have been changing faces
You cannot fill these shoes
There is too much to lose
Wake up behind these trenches
You run around defenseless
There is too much to lose
You cannot fill these shoes
I just wanna be famous, but
Be careful what you wish for

Now there he goes in Dre's studio
Cuppin' his balls
Screamin' the wood off the panelin'
Cussin' the paint off the walls
Spewin' his hate to these haters
Showin' no love for these broads
He ain't givin' them shit
He says he'll pinch a penny so hard
He'll leave a bruise on the bronze so dark
You can see the mark
With the scars, 'til Abraham Lincoln is screamin' out, "Ahh! "
These metaphors and similes ain't similar to them
Not at all
If they don't like it, they can all get fucked
Instead of suckin' him off
They can go get a belt or a neck tie to hang themselves by
Like David Carradine
They can go fuck themselves and just die
And eat shit while they at it, he's fuckin' had it
He's mad at the whole world
So go to hell and build a snowman, girl
The bullies become bullied
And pussies get pushed
Then they better pull me
Take me back to 9th grade to school me
'Cause I ain't lookin' back, only forward
This whole spot blowin'
Who coulda known he'd grow to be a poet and not know it?
And while I'm bein' poetic
Let me get it stoic and raise the bar
Higher than my opinion
Of these women's been lowered
So bear witness to some biblical shit
There's a cold wind blowin'
This world ain't gonna know what hit it
He did it, he made it, he's finally famous

Compositor: Marshall Mathers

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