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Artist: Eminem f/ Buckshot
Album:  The Marshall Mathers LP 2
Song:   Don't Front *
Typed by: 

* bonus track received after ordering Call of Duty: Ghosts

[Intro: scratched sample from Black Moon's "I Got Cha Opin"]
"Don't front" {*3X*}
"Don't fr-fr-front"

Used to get, bent, now I represent to the fullest
Pencil is full of insolent bullets
I'm like a Doberman Pinscher, Pit Bull and a Rott'
Mixed with a toxic, the plot begins to thicken, I
begin to spittin like vintage 'Pac demented
Demonic sinister, ever since the Doc replenished
me the day he gave me that shot when I was just about to quit
So to not see him with, me would be a shocking image
And I'm the definition of what a concrete chin is
Cause no matter how many times you sock me in it
And knock me to the canvas, even the boxing critics
know that if I get off to a rocky start, I'll always have a Rocky finish!
Eat me broccoli, spinach, cocky? Nope, but I hope I offended
you when I told ya how dope I am at this
And put emphasis on the "dope" so when names come up
in that conversation of who's the dopest, better throw mine in it
And don't mind me, while I remind you of the flow
you won't find anywhere, when it fires and I unload, my pen explodes
'til there's no rhymes in it - reload in no time
Let insults fly every sixty seconds that go by so you know I meant it/minute!
... In school I was so shy, timid
Two pairs of jeans I'd alternate, bummy clothes, I 'member
beggin my mom for K-Mart MacGregors cause those were new
Saint Vincent de Paul, those Pony's were used, and no size fitted
But kiss them old days adios, I did it
They said I was a gimmick, now I'm the one that those guys mimic
Now you fuckers don't wanna go startin no argument
Cause you know I'll win it, name a flow that's mo' authentic
And don't front

[Chorus: Buckshot]
Don't front, you know I gotcha open
Don't front, you know I gotcha open kid
Don't front, you know I gotcha open kid
Don't front, you know I gotcha open kid
Don't front, you know I gotcha open, word
Don't front, you know I gotcha open kid
Don't front, you know I gotcha open kid
Don't front, you know I gotcha open kid
Yo why you frontin? You know I gotcha open kid

Rest in piece to Big Proof, you was a beast
You lyrically mirrored me
Molded my flow off of you, your spirit's flowin through me
I love you Doody, without you I feel so incomplete
I'm no king, no need for rose petals to be thrown at my feet
I'm a thorn in your side, get thrown into a throne, better watch the fuckin tone that you speak
Feel like I'm in a zone, I'm in a whole different league
On my motherfuckin own, it's just me
No opponents can compete, and I've never been known to retreat
from beef, beep-beep, follow trends or wallow in defeat
I'm still hungry as FUCK, but can't even say bon appetit
Cause I don't know what to eat, fuckin microphone or the BEAT
Bitch, nobody's mind works like mine, it's nose to the grind-
-stone time holmes, your mind's blown cause I rhyme
like I'm still tryin to get signed
Up in the Ebony Show-case with Denaun screamin ("Who the fuck passed you the mic?")
Never asked you like my shit from the git
I'd rather ask you to wipe my ass, bitch
You had you a nice, run, now take a hike
I ever meet my match, I'ma strike that bitch first, cause on the mic
I gotta represent the real rappers
The real rappers get their motherfuckin skills crackin
Word to Buckshot and Dru-Ha, why the fuck not? You don't like it? Suck a cock
Almost forgot, before I signed with the Doc
I almost signed with (DUCK DOWN!)
Cause Rawkus didn't make no offers and motherfuck Loud, they jerked me around so what's up now?
Wow, how much of an asshole would I sound
like rubbin it in and holdin some grudge now
But don't front


[Eminem] + (Buckshot)
Late at night used to catch a buzz, couldn't write
Now I write, the type of shit to make you wipe
But wear diapers cause you might
leave a streak, I'm on a streak windshield wipers couldn't wipe
It's hard to decipher which cypher I might jump in tonight
Cause I'm hyper or somethin, needin someone or somethin is light-
-ing the fire under me, it's breathin new life
It's like I already died once, I guess some people only live twice
And it's funny, my days of bein broke are so long ago, I lost all concept of money
But you dimes won't get a fuckin nickle from me
Oh shit, I'm down on one knee
I'm havin a stroke of genius, "Elizabeth I'm comin to you honey!"
Uhh, from boy to man
And still make a whore-moan/hormone like a thyroid gland
I'm in another category man
Don't group me up with them pop stars, I never needed a pat on the back to get at-a-boy, band
No offense, YES offense!
Precedence has been set that'll never get met
Middle finger pressed against, Moby's nose
Shout to Obie, the +Curtain's Closed+ on my +Show+
(But never forget that I'm the one you thought wouldn't make it) You can't take it, OHH!
Got a whole generation of rappers comin up that are nutty with the flow
But convince me you've heard, an MC since me who's this good with the fuckin mincing of words
without mincing words that'll make you feel like I'm pinching a nerve
Whose as mentally disturbed, you might as well stick a knife in me and turn
It'll be like my skin bein Indian burned
Ahh, bitch there isn't one, when will you learn?
Never been served if memory serves
I'll battle THAT, 'til my own recollection remembers these words
Don't front!

[Outro: Buckshot]
You know I gotcha open kid, yo stop frontin
You know I gotcha open, word life