[Intro: Presenter, 𝗘𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗺, 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧]

That's what we're gonna do right now

𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗲'𝗿𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄 (𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸)

Exactly (𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘵)

Yeah, Eminem, Proof

Funkflex Master [?] (𝘩𝘢-𝘩𝘢)

𝗬𝗼, 𝗳𝗹𝗲𝘅 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 (𝘩𝘢-𝘩𝘢), 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗹𝗲𝘅 (D12)

𝗔𝗹𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 (𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦)

June 4th (𝗮𝘆𝗼)

[Verse 1: Eminem]

Lights, action, cameras flashin'

Managers, sponsors, concerts, monster mashin'

Flashin'

Type who might throw his underwear in the trash like Marilyn Manson

Updated Axle Rose

White version of Shaft, pimp slappin' hoes

Pull up like a Mac, jet black limo

Stretch so far back, can't see the back windows

Steppin' out, pink hats, furs and minks

Chick on each arm, what the **** you think?

Right arm got that kid from *NSYNC's chick on it

Left arm got that little P!nk chick on it

Me and Dre at the VMA's again

Pissin' off all these lesbians and gays again

[Verse 2: Proof]

A'ight, dawg (Haha), you want war? [?]

You beatin' us—not a chance

Let me show you what the clip does

'Cause D12 is harder than virgins inside strip clubs

Yo, we bust thugs

You beatin' us is like twenty inch DUB's on Love Bugs:

It won't happen, [?] satisfaction

[?] Funk Flux got you backspin

Actin' like you harder than life

Ayo, yo, we smarter [?]

Peace to Obie Trice, rock a mic, it's only right

Ob' Trice [?] around the globe twice

How it feel with DeShaun chosen words

Peace to Mark Labelle, Flex and Paul Rosenburg

Yo, Em-Diddy save me

Ayo, I think my dad's gone crazy

[Verse 3: Eminem]

My head hits the pillow, a weepin' willow

I can't sleep, a pain so deep, it bellows

But these cellos help just to keep me mellow

Hands on my head, touch knees to elbows

I'm hunched over, emotion just flows over

These cold shoulders are both frozen, you don't know me

I keep sayin' it, I can't stress it enough

So keep playin' it, and stand next to the subs

I choke mics like asphyxiation

When I'm stranglin' my own throat masturbatin'

Shit yeah, I'm a basket case

And I mastered this rap s*** 'til my ass gets wasted

'Til my assassination

'Til I'm slain 'cause of some **** infatuation

.44 mag's a fascination

A taste for disaster, and if that's the case, then—

[Verse 4: Proof]

A'ight, dawg, you involved with a hog

That'll spit a bar like a brick of raw

Get you off like porn tricks, born with natural ability

To put both hands up on the Statue of Liberty

Smackin' an iller me with accurate agility

Attack your facility then it's back to my killin' spree

Jigga, Nelly is cool, it's the wack ones that's killin' me

While Clinton got head, I was in the sack with old Hillary

The fact I'm an ill MC strapped with artillery

I got your family at your funeral clappin' with misery

It can happen to him or me, better the other way

Pillow [?] watch her suffocate

You're hard, Doody, [?] for D12 (Haha)

With Funk Flex, more noise than a seashell

Y'all faker than Lee Nails, we big in Dallas

We unsigned without the hype back before Rick Morales

Put it down there, rip your lungs with talons

Y'all lack talents, in fact, you're all off-balance

I'ma say it like this: you're short like [?]

And just tune in to Eminem show on June 4th