Get amped to do shit!

“Fight Music” aka “Flight Music” in censored form was released on January 24, 2002, is the second single to the album.

The song speaks on violence, graphic subjects, and how the youth… Read More [Intro: Eminem]

Yo

[Chorus: Eminem]

This kind of music, use it, and you get amped to do shit

Whenever you hear some shit and you can't refuse it

It's just some shit for these kids to trash their rooms with (Yeah)

Just refuse whenever they're asked to do shit (Hahaha)

The type of shit that you don't have to ask who produced it

You just know that's the new shit (Woo)

The type of shit that causes mass-confusion

And drastic movement of people actin' stupid

[Verse 1: Kon Artis]

I come to every club with intention to do harm

With a prosthetic arm and smellin' like Boone's Farm

Hidin' under tables as soon as I hear alarms

Paranoid thief that'll steal from his own mom

Kunivin' Kon Artis with a bomb

Strapped to my stomach, screamin' ("Let's get it on!")

A lush that love to drink, drunk-drivin' a tank

Rollin' over a bank, cops see me and faint (Vrr)

It's drastic, I'm past my limit of coke

I think I'll up my high by slittin' your throat

Push your baby carriage into the street 'til it's mince meat

Your mens been beat the minute, I step onto your street

This is fight music

[Verse 2: Bizarre & Eminem]

You know why my hands are so numb? (No)

'Cause my grandmother sucked my dick and I didn't cum (Ha-ha-ha-ha, oh)

Smacked this whore for talkin' crap, so what if she's handicapped? (Bitch! Ow! What?)

The bitch said, "Bizarre couldn't rap" (Can't rap, you're whack, ha-ha)

I fuckin' hate you, I'll take your drawers down and rape you (Rrr! Ah!)

While Dr. Dre videotapes you ("Hell yeah")

Satan done got me on this song, eatin' a hot-dog

Readin' the Holy Qur'an while I'm on the John (Uh)

Tired of wearin' this yellow thong

Take it back, Sisqo, you know where it belongs (Bom-bom, bom-bom)

Now, here's a gun, I'll put it in your palm (Bow)

Now go over there and blow up Dru Hill's arms, fuck the love songs

Bitch

[Chorus: Eminem]

This kind of music, use it, and you get amped to do shit

Whenever you hear some shit and you can't refuse it

It's just some shit for these kids to trash their rooms with

Just refuse whenever they're asked to do shit

The type of shit that you don't have to ask who produced it

You just know that's the new shit

The type of shit that causes mass-confusion

And drastic movement of people actin' stupid

[Verse 3: Proof & Eminem]

Just bring who you gon' bring on, who you gon' swing on

I'm King Kong, guns blow you to kingdom-come

Show you machine gun funk

Sixteen M16's, one pump (Mm)

The snub in my paw, shove it in your jaws (Ooh, mm)

Have you runnin' out this fuckin' club in your drawers (Ah! Mm)

We lovin' the brawls; there's nothin' to applaud (Nah)

But, fuck it, it's all good, the hood is up in us all;

It's fight music

[Verse 4: Swifty McVay & Eminem]

I'm a nigga that loves scuffles

And won't hesitate to sock you again with swollen knuckles

I'm like that, catch a nigga like bear traps

Blow his head back right in front of the precinct (You hear that? Ah!)

I slap your freak, bump you and won't speak (Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!)

If you step on my feet, you get drowned in your own drink (Pssh)

I suffocated my shrink just for talkin', came back

And fucked up his pallbearers and made them drop his coffin;

It's fight music

[Verse 5: Kuniva]

These beads I'm swingin' is stingin' them (Ph, ph, ph)

See all these niggas? When I step in the club, I'm bringin' them (What up though?)

And any nigga lookin' too hard, we Rodney King-in' them (Ooh, ooh)

Malice Greening them and gasolinin' them with premium (Ugh)

Light a cigarette, flick it at 'em, or spit it at 'em (Hoo)

Hold up a picture of his family and kick it at him ("No!")

Blast while you right-hookin', right when your wife's lookin' (Uh-huh)

Fuck fight music, bitch, this is losing-your-life music

[Verse 6: Eminem]

If I could capture the rage of today's youth and bottle it

Crush the glass with my bare hands and swallow it

And spit it back in the faces of you racists

And hypocrites who think the same shit but don't say shit

You Liberaces, Versaces, and you Nazis

Watch me, 'cause you figured you got me in this hot seat (Tss)

You motherfuckers wanna judge me 'cause you're not me

You'll never stop me, I'm top speed and you pop me

I came to save these new generations of babies

From parents who failed to raise them 'cause they're lazy

To grow to praise me, I'm makin' them go crazy

That's how I got this whole nation to embrace me

And you fugazi if you think I'ma admit wrong

I cripple any hypocritic critic I'm sicked on

And this song is for any kid who gets picked on

A sick song to retaliate to, and it's called—

[Chorus: Eminem]

This kind of music, use it, and you get amped to do shit

Whenever you hear some shit and you can't refuse it

It's just some shit for these kids to trash their rooms with

Just refuse whenever they're asked to do shit

The type of shit that you don't have to ask who produced it

You just know that's the new shit

The type of shit that causes mass-confusion

And drastic movement of people actin' stupid

[Outro: Eminem]

It's fight music