Houdini

Album: The Death of Slim Shady (2024)
Charted: 1 2
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  • Hey, Em, it's Paul
    Uh, I was listening to the album
    Good fucking luck, you're on your own

    Guess who's back, back again?
    Shady's back, tell a friend
    Guess who's back? Guess who's back?
    Guess who's back? Guess who's back?
    Guess who's back? Guess who's back?
    Guess who's back?
    Da-da-da, da, da, da, da, da, da
    Da-da-da, da, da, da, da

    Well, look what the stork brung (what?)
    Little baby devil with the forked tongue
    And it's stickin' out, yeah, like a sore thumb (bleh)
    With a forehead that it grew horns from (look)
    Still a white jerk (it's him), pullin' up in a Chrysler to the cypher
    With the Vic's, Percs and a Bud Light shirt
    Lyrical technician (yeah), an electrician (yeah)
    Y'all light work
    And I don't gotta play pretend, it's you I make believe (what?)
    And you know I'm here to stay 'cause me (why?)
    If I was to ever take a leave (what?)
    It would be aspirin to break a feve' (yeah)
    If I was to ask for Megan Thee (what?)
    Stallion if she would collab with me
    Would I really have a shot at a feat?
    I don't know, but I'm glad to be back like

    Abra-abracadabra (and for my last trick)
    I'm 'bout to reach in my bag, bruh (like)
    Abra-abracadabra (and for my last trick, poof)
    Just like that and I'm back, bro

    Now back in the days of old me (when?)
    Right around the time I became a dope fiend (oh)
    Ate some codeine as a way of coping
    Taste of opiates, case of O.E.
    Turned me into smiley face emoji (woo)
    My shit may not be age-appropriate
    But I will hit an eight-year-old in the face with a participation trophy
    Plus I have zero doubts
    That this whole world's 'bout
    To turn into some girl scouts
    That censorship bureau's out to (shut me down)
    So when I started this verse
    It did start off lighthearted at first (hmm)
    But it feels like I'm targeted
    Mind-bogglin' how my profit has skyrocketed
    Look what I pocketed
    Yeah, the shit is just like y'all had been light joggin', and
    I've been runnin' at full speed
    And that's why I'm ahead like my noggin', and
    I'm the fight y'all get in
    When you debate who the best, but opps, I'm white chalkin' when
    I step up to that mic, cock it then
    "Oh my God, it's him, not again"

    Abra-abracadabra (and for my last trick)
    I'm 'bout to reach in my bag, bruh (like)
    Abra-abracadabra (and for my last trick, poof)
    Just like that and I'm back, bro (break it down)

    Sometimes I wonder what the old me'd say (if what?)
    If he could see the way shit is today (look at this shit, man)
    He'd probably say that everything is gay (like happy)
    What's my name? What's my name? (Slim Shady)

    So how many little kids still wanna act like me?
    I'm a bigger prick than cacti be (yeah)
    And that's why these (what?)
    Words sting just like you were being attacked by bees (bzz)
    In the coupe, leaning back my seat (what?)
    Bumpin' R. Kelly's favorite group (uh), the black guy (guy) pees (haha, pees)
    In my Air Max 90s
    White Ts, walkin' parental advisory
    My transgender cat's Siamese (why?)
    Identifies as Black, but acts Chinese
    Like a motherfuckin' Hacky Sack, I treat (what?)
    The whole world 'cause I got it at my feet (yeah)
    How can I explain to you (what?)
    That even myself I'm a danger to? (Yeah)
    I hop on tracks like a kangaroo
    And say a few things or two to anger you
    But fuck that, if I think that shit, I'ma say that shit
    Cancel me, what? Okay, that's it
    Go ahead, Paul, quit, snake-ass prick
    You male cross-dresser, fake-ass bitch
    And I'll probably get shit for that (watch)
    But you can all suck my dick, in fact
    Fuck them, fuck Dre, fuck Jimmy, fuck me, fuck you
    Fuck my own kids, they're brats (fuck 'em)
    They can screw off (yeah), them and you all (uh)
    You too, Paul (punk), got two balls
    Big as RuPaul's (whoa)
    What you thought you saw ain't what you saw (nah)
    'Cause you're never gon' see me
    Caught sleepin' and see the kidnappin' never did happen (no)
    Like Sherri Papini, Harry Houdini
    I vanish into the thin air as I'm leaving like

    Abra-abracadabra (and for my last trick)
    I'm 'bout to reach in my bag, bruh (like)
    Abra-abracadabra (and for my last trick, poof)
    Just like that and I'm back, bro Writer/s: Anne Jennifer Dudley, Jeffrey Irwin Bass, Kevin Dean Bell, Malcolm Robert Andrew McLaren, Marshall B. Mathers III, Steven Haworth Miller, Trevor Charles Horn
    Publisher: Audiam, Inc., BMG Rights Management, Peermusic Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

Comments: 1

  • John from New York CityGenius lyrics!
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