Practice: Almost Famous

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

Yeah, can't stop now

This may be the last chance I get

To be famous!

You dream of trading places

Oh-oh, I have been changing faces

Oh-oh, you cannot fill these shoes

Oh-oh, there is too much to lose

Oh-oh-oh-oh, wake up behind these trenches

Oh-oh, you run around defenceless

Oh-oh, there is too much to lose

Oh-oh, 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 berzerker than a fed up post office worker

A merk 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 blowing 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 till he showed 'em

Defiance, giant scrotum

He don't owe them bitches shit

His britches, he out grow'd 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 dying 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 backing down you must be out of your dang skulls

I'm almost famous!

You dream of trading places

Oh-oh, I have been changing faces

Oh-oh, you cannot fill these shoes

Oh-oh, there is too much to lose

Oh-oh-oh-oh, wake up behind these trenches

Oh-oh, you run around defenceless

Oh-oh, there is too much to lose

Oh-oh, you cannot fill these shoes

I just wanna be famous

But

Be careful of what you wish for!

I'm back for revenge

I lost a battle that ain't happening 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

Pulling out all stops, any who touch a mic prior's

Not even Austin Powers, how the fuck are they Mike Meyers?

And tell that psycho to pass the torch

To the wacko before 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 Me's

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 dissing in 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

Oh-oh, I have been changing faces

Oh-oh, you cannot fill these shoes

Oh-oh, there is too much to lose

Oh-oh-oh-oh, wake up behind these trenches

Oh-oh, you run around defenceless

Oh-oh, there is too much to lose

Oh-oh, you cannot fill these shoes

I just wanna be famous

But

Be careful of what you wish for!

Now there he goes in Dre's studio cupping his balls

Screaming the wood off the paneling

And cussing the paint off the walls

Spewing his hate to these haters, showing no love for these broads

He ain't given 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, till Abraham Lincoln is screaming out "Aah!"

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 sucking 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 fucking 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 looking back, only forward, this whole spot blowing

Who could've known he'd grow to be a poet and not know it

And while I'm being 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 blowing this world ain't gonna know what hit it

He did it

He made it

He's finally famous!