So Far...

I own a mansion
But live in a house
A king-size bed, but
I sleep on the couch
I'm Mr. Brightside
Glass is half full
But my tank's half empty
Gasket just blew

This always happens
Thirty minutes from home
Gotta lay a log cabin
Only option I have is McDonald's bathroom
In a public stall droppin' a football
So every time someone walks in the john, I get Madden

"Shady, what up?"
What? Come on, man, I'm crappin'
And you're askin' for my goddamn autograph on a napkin?
Oh, that's odd, I just happened to run out of tissue
Yeah, hand me that, on second thought, I'd be glad then

"Thanks, dawg! Name's Todd, a big fan"
I wiped my ass with it, crumbled it up in a wad, threw it back and
Told him, "Todd, you're the shit"
When's all of this crap end?
Can't pump my gas without causin' an accident

Pump my gas, cut my grass
I can't take out the fuckin' trash without
Someone passin' through my sub, harassin'
I'd count my blessin's, but I suck at math
I'd rather wallow then bask, sufferin' from succotash
But the antacid
Gives my stomach gas
When I mix my corn with my fuckin' mash
Potato, so what, ho, kiss my country bumpkin ass
Missouri southern roots
What the fuck is upper-class?

Call lunch dinner, call dinner supper
Tupperware in a covered plastic wear up the ass
Stuck in the past, iPod, what the fuck is that?
B-Boy to the core, mule, I'm a stubborn ass

Maybe that's why I feel so strange
Got it all, but I still won't change
Maybe that's why I can't leave Detroit
It's the motivation that keeps me going
This is the inspiration I need
I can never turn my back on a city that made me
And (life's been good to me so far)

They call me classless, I heard that
I second and third that
Don't know what the fuck I'd be doin' if it weren't rap
Probably be a giant turd-sack
But I blew, never turned back
Turned forty and still sag
Teenagers act more fuckin' mature, Jack
Fuck you gonna say to me?

I leave on my own terms, asshole, I'm goin' berserk
My nerves are bad, but I love the perks my work has
I get to meet famous people
Look at her, dag
Her nylons are ran, her skirt's snagged
And I heard she drag-races *burp* swag

Tuck in my Hanes shirt tag
You're Danica Patrick
(Yeah?) word, skag
We'd be the perfect match
'Cause you're a vacuum
I'm a dirtbag

My apologies
No disrespect to technology
But what the heck is all of these buttons?
You expect me to sit here and learn that?
Fuck I gotta do to hear this new song from Luda?
Be an expert at computers?
I'd rather be an Encyclopedia Britannica
Hell with PlayStation

I'm still on my first man on some Zelda
Nintendo, bitch!
Run, jump, punch, stab and I melt the
Mozzarella on my spaghetti, put in on bread
Make a sandwich with Welch's and belch
They say this spray butter's bad for my health, but
I think there's more white trash from the trailer
Jed Clampett, Redd Sanford, and welfare
Mentality helps to
Keep me grounded
That's why I never take full advantage of wealth, I

Managed to dwell within these parameters
Still crammin' the shelves full of Hamburger Helper
I can't even help it
This is the hand I was dealt, a
Creature of habit
Feel like I'm trapped in an animal shelter
With all these pet peeves
Goddammit to hell
I can't stand
All these kids
With their camera cellphones
I can't go anywhere
I get so mad I could yell, the
Other day, someone got all elaborate
And stuck a head from a fuckin' dead cat in my mailbox
Went to Burger King
They spit on my onion rings
I think my karma's catchin' up with me

Maybe that's why I feel so strange
Got it all, but I still won't change
Maybe that's why I can't leave Detroit
It's the motivation that keeps me going
This is the inspiration I need
I can never turn my back on a city that made me
And (life's been good to me so far)

Got friends on Facebook
All over the world
Not sure what that means
They tell me it's good
So I'm artist of the decade
I even got a plaque
I'd hang it up, but
The frame is all cracked

I'm tryna be low-key
Hopefully nobody notices me
In produce, hunched over, giant nosebleed, ogre
Style as I mosey over to the frozen aisle
By the frozen yogurt this guy approached me
Embarrassed, I just did Comerica
With Hova, the show's over
I'm hidin' in Kroger buyin' groceries
He just had front row seats
Told me to sign this poster, then insults me
"Wow, up close, didn't know you had crow's feet!"

I'm at a crossroad, lost, still shoppin' at Costco
Sloppy Joe's, bulk waffles
Got caught pickin' my nose, ah!
Look over, see these two hot hoes
Finger's still up in one of my nostrils
Right next to 'em
Stuck at the light
The fuckin' shit's takin' forever to change, It's stuck
These bitches are lovin' it, rubbin' it in, chucklin'
Couldn't do nothin', play it off
"What you bumpin'? Trunk Muzik?"
"Yelawolf's better," fuckin' bitch

They want me to flip at the label
But I won't succumb to it
The pressure, they want me to follow up with another one
After Recovery was so highly coveted
But what good is a fuckin' recovery if I fumble it?
'Cause I'ma drop the ball if I don't get a grip
Hoppin' out shrubbery on you sons of bitches
Wrong subdivision to fuck with, bitch
Quit snappin' fuckin' pictures of my kids
I love my city, but you push me to my limit, what a pity

The shit I complain about
It's like there ain't a cloud in the sky, and it's rainin' out
Kool-Aid stain on the couch
I'll never get it out
Bitch, I got an elevator in my house
Ants and a mouse, I'm livin' the dream

Maybe that's why I feel so strange
Got it all, but I still won't change
Maybe that's why I can't leave Detroit
It's the motivation that keeps me going
This is the inspiration I need
I can never turn my back on a city that made me
And (life's been good to me so far)



Credits
Writer(s): Marshall B. Iii Mathers, Joseph Fidler Walsh, Jesse Bonds Weaver Jr.
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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