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Artist: Eminem f/ X Ambassadors
Album:  The Marshall Mathers LP 2
Song:   Wicked Ways *
Typed by: 

* deluxe edition bonus track

[Chorus 2X: X Ambassadors]
I'm gettin by with my wicked ways
I'm loadin up and I'm takin names

Guess I got a way with words, I could get away with murder, ever heard of Aspergers? It's a rare condition
It's what you're sufferin from when you simply don't care if it's an
80-degree day and there's no fricken air conditionin and you can't see the bitch's hair is frizzin
Cause you got the windows up blarin the system in your Chevrolet Prism
The devil ain't on the level same as him, picture someone who revels in straight masochism
And imagine him givin him an adjective an ass whippin so bad they should put his ass in prison
A word bully, I verbally abuse verbs like they did somethin to me personally
Used to get bullied so I cut class and ditch it - now I bully rap, I'm the shit, bag it (sniff it)
Cadillac from a K-car, my ass from a hole in the ground, still can't tell 'em a-part
Came straight out the trailer park screamin I'm proud to shop at K-Mart and it became art
And I'm still fed up and as pissed off as they are
To this day I still get in fights with the same broad at the same Walmart arguin over the same cart
in the middle of the aisle whylin, I don't give a fuck, I don't play!
Bitch you think you saw this basket first? Your ass backwards like motherfuckin Bob and Silent Jay!
Illest shit you could think I would say, mind's like a pile of clay
When's the last time that you saw a villain with a cape?
Ripped a gapin hole in it, flipped out, ripped down the drapes
Tied 'em around my neck, went down the fire escape of the Empire State
Slipped fell straight down to the ground splattered all over the entire state
And straight to hell got an impaled by the gates, so Satan stuck his face in an ashtray
while I sashayed around flames with a match and I gave him the gas face {*babbling*}
And this ain't got nothin to do with a scale of bein gay little faggot, but by the way
Thoughts are gettin darker by the day
I'm a combination of Skylar Grey, Tyler the Creator and Violent Jay
It's a fuckin miracle to be this lyrical, paint my face with clown makeup and a smiley face
I'm insane, every rhyme I say, sons/suns you like an ultraviolet ray
I'm sellin hatred buffet style, all the shit you can eat, $11.99 so come on and pile a plate
I'm throwin down the gauntlet to see what hell I can raise with the rhyme I'm spittin
while I'm shittin on competition, in the meantime it's always mean time, I'm gettin


I've been a career asshole, I don't see why these people always got my back
I done said so much fucked-up shit, I was born a mistake but I was put here not by ac-
-cident, I had a purpose and that purpose was to beat a beat purplish, slaughter tracks
I done put my two dimes and a nickel in this shit, I'm comin to get that quarter-back
like Ndamukong, the drama can build, your momma can ask me for my autograph
Cause that cougar's a MILF, she's the oldest trick in the book but I sure would fall for THAT
You done brought a bat to a rocket launcher fight, when I get on the mic I'ma SNAP
Make you wish the ambulance that took me to the hospital when I overdosed woulda caught a FLAT
If it makes you sick to your stomach acid, indigestion, my suggestion's Kaopectate
If it feels like I'm runnin away with the game it's cause I am, don't speculate, spectate
All I got is dick for days and insults for decades
But I get by with my wicked ways, lady you can suck a dick 'til your neck aches
Cry 'til you get puffy eyes, red face, but I'm leavin on this jet plane
You ain't fly, you're an airhead and I'm sick of poundin a square peg in a round hole, sorry another catchphrase
But your baggage ain't gonna fit in my storage overhead space
Cause you just ain't big enough to fit your damaged goods, other words don't try to put your heart in a headcase
Cause baby, stable mentally I ain't
I need my meds, I peed my bed, I'm goin blind, I don't see my legs
I keep on fallin down, no wonder you can't stand me, I need my cane
Someone help me, I think my face is melting, if you felt these migraines
And see these maggots eat my brain, this G-I-A-
-N-T hole in my empty head, if you read my mind you can see my pain
Then you'd see why I be this way, ever since I was knee-high playin
with G.I. Joes, told these hoes shut their P-I-E holes, now peep my game
Cause I'm 'bout it ('bout it) like a (like a) fuckin (fuckin) echo (echo)
Psy-psycho on a cyclone cycle spiraling, h-h-here I go, I`m outta control like no
o-o-o-other mic go, stab you 'til the knife goes
d-d-dull, I'm nothin but a hole inside your skull where your eye goes
Cause I'ma sock it/socket to you! Dyke hoe
You don't like it, get on your Harley Davidson menstrual cycle and ride it, like a motorbike
I'm finna blow the mic the whole night so strike up the fuckin maestro, I'm nitro {*BOOM*}
And hi-ho, hand me my shovel, I'm liable to dig my hole
deeper and it's off to H-E-double hockey sticks I go
I'm gettin


{*Ken Kaniff skit plays from 4:59 to the end*}