Book of Rhymes Lyrics – Eminem – DJ Premier

Book of Rhymes Song Lyrics

I don’t smile, I don’t frown, get too up or get too down
I was here, so were you, you came and went, I stuck around
Still here now, stop me how
Your opinion’s like a broken calculator
That shit doesn’t count
Shut your motherfuckin’ mouth

I’m emptyin’ my book of rhymes
Get ’em all off my pad, every thought that I had
I said I’m emptyin’ my book of rhymes
Get ’em all off my pad , every thought that I had

Haven’t used all the tricks I have, so like my balls, I’m in my bag
Get a little testе when I’m mad, sick of wrestling this iPad
Unsuccessfully, I might add
And I know it’s bеst to leave it lie
But even I get obsessed with reading everything
And let it get the best of me ’til I snap
But I need to get off the internet
I need to get on the mic
You need to get off the internet
You need to get you a life
Why you waste time just to comment on shit

Especially shit you don’t like
Don’t like it, don’t listen, but don’t tell me ’bout your favorite rapper rippin’ some shit he didn’t write
What happened to Slim
He was no cap with the pen
He used to rap like the people his music was for
He was exactly like them
The dude who used to be poor, why can’t he tap into him
Can’t use that excuse anymore
He’s mad at the wind, he’s in a nuclear war
With a cloud, he’s yellin’ at it again
I talked to your mother, she told me she loved me
All she wanna do is just hold me and hug me
Wants nobody but me, she showed me the Dougie
Can I get a witness like notary public

She said, “Kick some fly shit”
I said, “I got wings on my ass”
Told her my dick’s a cockpit
I fly by the seat of my pants
Sinful thoughts, this beat is crazy, this shit’s retarded
This instru’s mental to mini-bars, incidental charges
When did it start? I been cold-hearted in this heart since kindergarten
Mental sharpness which makes Slim a walking dentist office, bitch, I invented flossin’
Yeah, I used to wonder where my next meal’s gonna come from
Now, I just wonder where my next mill’s gonna come from
I cannot have no success, unless when I finally make it

I get to remind all the haters who shitted on me when I’m on my way up
My floor is y’all fool’s ceilings
If I was you, I would step or find yourself twisted
That’s how you’ll wind up like spiral stairs
I will swear on a stack of Bibles
I will tear new behinds out of rivals, even your idols, I don’t care
It’s Music to Be Murdered By, so Bon Iver can swallow a fuckin’ Ja Rule bobblehead
And die slow like Alzheimer’s
Lone sniper, I hold a microphone like a loaded rifle
My dome’s brighter, all I spit from my skull’s fire
All that’s missing’s a motorcycle with the chrome wires, spoke tires
And y’all are flow biters, so I don’t gotta
Explain why they call me your ghostwriter

I’m emptyin’ my book of rhymes
Get ’em all off my pad, every thought that I had
I said I’m emptyin’ my book of rhymes
Get ’em all off my pad, every thought that I had

Haven’t used all the tricks I have, so like my balls, it’s in my bag
I tend to get a little testy when I’m mad
But gift of gab and pen to pad turn temper tantrums into anthems
Put lips to ass and kiss the cracks, spit your damnedest
You’re still gonna hit the canvas
Rippin’ rappers, veterans to whippersnappers
Mr. Mathers is killin’ this shit, villainous wit with scant less
Syllables rip the planet, biblical shit’s fittin’ to hit the fan
Anybody wanna go tit for tat’s gonna get hit with that
Then the amygdala hippocampus is gonna trigger the ignoramus
To think of the most ridiculous shit to spit then

Pit it against these pitiful rappers
Insidious, these idiots wittiest shit against me shitty as MC Hammer’s
Get your whole squad, send a task force in
If you want it, you’re ’bout to get what you asked for then
Put your helmet on, strap your chin
You’re ’bout to get you a crash course in
Who not to start a motherfuckin’ rap war with
Or to go against, fuck would you wanna do that for
No offense, but are you retards slow or dense
A fuckin’ penny has more sense

Yeah, now you gotta get killed, but it’s not a big deal, but every thought is so ill
And so methodical, thought I swallowed a pill
I’m starting to feel like I’m an automobile
With Barnacle Bill inside the car at the wheel
Inside a carnival, ’cause I’m plowin’ into everyone who wrote snidey articles
And that explains why the fuck you clowns are all in my grill
Joy and pain, fortune, fame, torture, shame, choice I made
Swore someday the world would pay less to lose, more to gain, daughters raised
Yesterday, glory days, adored and praised, ignored the hate
Addressed the fake, toured with Dre, tore a page from Jordan came
Destroyed the game before you came, enjoy your stay
Before it’s gone away, but the more you claim that you’re gonna point and aim

If it joined a gang, your shit isn’t going to bang
You’re just boring, lame and more of the same
You have an enormous chain, but a stormless brain
The most you can form is rain
Your shit is pointless, same as a scoreless game
So, bitch, quit lyin’, you’re denyin’ like Mr. Porter’s name
Borderline bipolar disorder since my stroller
Eyes rollin’ back in my skull like Eli Porter
Fire mortar rounds, Ayatollah, every iota I load up
I owe to my motor mouth
This is my note to self
Sometimes you’re gonna bomb
So you just might have to blow yourself up with no one’s help
I just wrote it down in my book of rhymes
Preemo, take us out

Writin’ in my book of rhymes
My book of rhymes, my book of rhymes
I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m eastside
Writin’ in my book of rhymes
My book of rhymes, my book of rhymes
I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m eastside

Book of Rhymes Video