Testo della canzone Fight Music (Eminem feat. Proof), tratta dall'album Shady Classics

Fight Music - Eminem feat. Proof

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 they rooms with
Just refuse whenever they 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 acting stupid

I come to every club with intention to do harm
With a prosthetic arm and smelling like Boone's Farm
Hiding under tables as soon as I hear alarms
Paranoid thief that'll steal from his own mom
Kuniving Kon Artis with a bomb
Strapped to my stomach, screaming "let's get it on"
A lush that love to drink, drunk driving a tank
Rolling over a bank, cops see me and faint
It's drastic; I'm past my limit of coke
I think I'll up my high by slitting your throat
Push your baby carriage into the street till it's mince meat
Your mens been beat the minute I step onto your street
This is fight music

You know why my hands are so numb? (No)
Cause my grandmother sucked my dick and I didn't cum (Oh)
Smacked this whore for talking crap
So what if she's handicapped? The bitch said Bizarre couldn't rap
I fuckin' hate you; I'll take your drawers down and rape you
While Dr. Dre videotapes you (hell yeah)
Satan done got me on this song
Eating a hot dog, reading the Holy Qu'ran while I'm on the john
Tired of wearing this yellow thong
Take it back, Sisqo: you know where it belongs
Now here's a gun; I'll put it in your palm
Now go over there and blow up Dru Hill's arms
Fuck your love songs

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 they rooms with
Just refuse whenever they 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 acting stupid

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 M-16s and one pump
The snub in my paw; shove it in your jaws
Have you running out this fucking club in your drawers
We loving the broads; there's nothin' to applaud
But fuck it, it's all good; the hood is up in us all
It's fight music

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?)
I slap your freak; bump you and won't speak
If you step on my feet, you get drowned in your own drink
I suffocated my shrink just for talking
Came back and fucked up his pallbearers and made them drop his coffin
It's fight music

These beads I'm swinging is stinging them
See all these niggas, when I step in the club, I'm bringing them
If any nigga looking too hard, we Rodney King'n them
Malice Green to them and gasolining them with premium
Light a cigarette, flick it at them or spit it at them
Hold up a picture of his family and kick it at him
Blast while you right-hooking, right when your wife's looking
Fuck fight music, bitch: this is losing-your-life music

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
You motherfuckers wanna judge me cause you're not me
You'll never stop me: I'm top speed as 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 making them go crazy
That's how I got this whole nation to embrace me
And you fugazi if you think I'mma admit wrong
I cripple any hypocritic critic I'm siced on
And this song is for any kid who gets picked on
A sick song to retaliate to and it's called...

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 they rooms with
Just refuse whenever they 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 acting stupid

It's fight music



Credits
Writer(s): Holton De Shaun Dupree, Elizondo Michael A, Young Andre Romell, Mathers Marshall B, Porter Denaun M, Carlisle Von M, Moore Ondre C, Johnson Rufus B
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