NO MP3 DOWNLOAD: Lyrics of The Game’s The Black Slim Shady rap song revealed as fans believe he shaded Eminem

Information reaching Kossyderrickent has it that the Lyrics of The Game’s The Black Slim Shady revealed as fans believe he shaded Eminem. 

According to some Americans, they are saying that The Game has probably thrown a shade at Eminem through the newly released rap song. 

According to information, The Game will be dropping his album ‘Drillmatic’ tonight and his fans are seriously anticipating its arrival. 

Lyrics:

I don’t think they know who they fuckin’ with

Pull that truck around, niggas is duckin’ clips

Hi, I’m the Black Slim Shady

I unpack the heat with my oven mitts

I tip-toe around in my Chucks and shit

Hi, I’m the Black Slim Shady

It’s Game, sick in the brain

Sick as the day that I came

Hennessy runnin’ through my veins, I load up the clip and aim

Sick of you niggas talkin’ like you won’t get wet in the rain

Now I’m singin’ Frank Ocean, and you get hit with this Novacane

Sick and tired of niggas, bitches, and critics, they all the same

Lame games they playin’, lyin’, tryin’ me for my name

I stick my dick in your podcast

Shallow bitch on the show, just to lick the tip it’s ridiculous, she watchin’ it grow

Cross eyed-ed, crosshairs on my enemies

If you cross the street, you run into me, you crash in to a light bolt

Now you crawlin’ out the driver side like a centipede

And me, I’m finna be on a jet to the Phillipines

Spill the beans, kick the Kool-Aid, overtell, God don’t intervene

While I’m smashin’ Saweetie pussy to smithereens

It’s the G-A-ficky-ficky-M, paint my face, I’m him

Puttin’ this big black dick in your skims

I don’t think they know who they fuckin’ with

Pull that truck around, niggas is duckin’ clips

Hi, I’m the Black Slim Shady

I unpack the heat with my oven mitts

I tip-toe around in my Chucks and shit

Hi, I’m the Black Slim Shady

I killed Dr. Dre in my basement last night

I was wasted last night, I went ape shit last night

Chopped his body up, and forget where I placed it last night

Had a slice of humble pie, I couldn’t taste it last night (Hahaha)

Lost my taste and my smell, I got Omarion

Me and Dr. Fauci went to Crazy Girls and then we got our party on

So fee-fi-fum, I’m with 40 goin’ dumb

Not E-40, the other 40, I’m with Canadians in Drake’s house

(Havin’ a stakeout)

And I’m so tired of orderin’ takeout, what’s beef?

Beef is when you tell the chef to bring them steaks out

So let’s play house with the Dracos and the AR

Stay the fuck up off of Stanley grass and take a shit in they yard

And my dick stay hard, when I see Lizzo on the internet

(Here it is another BBL)

And my dick get little on the internet

My intellect is NFT’s and Cryptos, I can never be a Crip though

I tip-toe with my red rag around six O’s

Chuck?

Yeah

Hey, man, let’s get you out the rain

Good lookin’, how’s your night goin’, bro?

I’m cool, man, you don’t need that mask

Nobody cares about that shit anymore

You got a charger up there with you?

Yeah, for sure, it reaches all the way back there too

Good lookin’, homie

Ayo, I really fuck with that starter cap, that shit hard as fuck

Crazy story behind it, my brother Stan, rest in peace

What?

He gave me this hat twenty-two years ago

Damn

It’s my favorite

Can I see that shit for a minute?

Uh, yeah, sure

Oh, shit, this motherfucker autographed and everything

Who signed it for you?

Eminem

He used to be like this rap God

Man, me and my brother praised him

Back when I was little, I don’t really like any of his new stuff

Woah, wait, I know where we’re goin’, wait, why do you have a gu—?

Yo, shut the fuck up

Ayy, man, I’m drivin’, I’ll get you there wait

I’ll take you, I’m a fan, that’s cool

Stop lookin’ back, stop lookin’ back here

It’s cool dude, man, you don’t need to do this

Focus on the fuckin’ road

Okay

Yo, come on, man

Alright

Drive

Alright, alright

Drive

We’ll go, we’ll go

Shut the fuck up

Alright

Ask Dre

All I got is my word, my dick and my MAC 10

One thing you can never have is my motherfuckin’ Black… skin

This ain’t no suit that I wore

This ain’t a mansion, a hangin’ plaque, this ain’t no stupid award

So, oh, he goes platinum

And, oh, I’m on the ‘Math with him

He got all the Blackest friends

He wants to be African, me

Left for dead on the Doctor’s Advocate

Dre never executive-produced it, I just imagined it

Oh, here goes the magic tricks

Candy shops and the magic stick

DeAngelo Bailey got in shape to whoop your ass again

You depressed, you just maskin’ it

You pop a Adderall, a Vicodin, and a Aspirin

But the math wasn’t mathin’ in

So pass me the torch ’cause the torture in my mind

With the voice that defied rhymes will force the blind eye

To see that I was in the white Rolls Royce with five .9’s

When you was pretendin’ to be the white Royce da 5’9″

I just crossed a fine line

Might just force the white guy to call D12 so he can be the pork they grind, swine

And the biggest rapper in Detroit, that award is Sean Don

So uncork the Chardonnay and stick my fork in white wine

I never heard you in a club, I never heard you in a bar

Eleven albums and ten never got played inside of my car

I’d rather listen to Snitch9ine like sixty-nine times

And participate in sixty-nines with sixty-nine nuns than listen to you

You’re a Karen, call the cops, tell ’em it’s a Black man on your block

With a Glock and he got it cocked

And the tattoos on his face is a star and a teardrop

He standin’ on a teal drop and he says he can feel Pac in the air

Like Phil Collins, listen to him, he still wildin’

(Ah, Epstein chased me around Epstein island)

So silence, I’m—, I’m thinkin’, uh, mm, yeah

Nothin’ rhymes with orange!

So ficky-ficky Slim Shady, please, stand up

Shoot the fade with me, I’d love to put these hands up

I could .40 Glock you, unarmed

Drop the world on your head with one arm

Dear Slim, Hailie’s with me and she’s unharmed for now (Dad, I’m really scared)

These are the deepest secrets, I keep and I be on defence

‘Cause G’s ain’t supposed to fold up

With all the facades I hold up inside of my mind, I froze up

I’m cold as COVID, Ebola, the Spanish flu, and Corona

The Zika virus, pneumonia is deep inside my persona

On each side of my shoulders is demons chasin’ Jehovah

The renegade or the soldier, I really gave it to Hova (How it feel?)

Twenty-three years, still ain’t penetratin’ the culture

You are not, top five, in mine, B.I.G or Pac eyes

No André, no Nas, stop tellin’ white lies

Sniff a white line, this the right time

I Suge Knight Vanilla Ice, I’m not Mr. Nice Guy

I’m crazy (I’m crazy, I’m crazy)

I’m crazy (I’m crazy, I’m crazy)

I’m not Mr. Nice Guy

I’m crazy (I’m crazy, I’m crazy)

Dre know

I’m crazy (I’m crazy, I’m crazy)

Way to fuckin’ go

You done pissed off Jimmy, Universal, and Interscope

Know, I got Jimmy, Slim, 50, and Universal in a scope

(‘Cause I’m shady) Shadier than him

(I’m crazy) Crazier than Kim

So when the Bat signal goes up in the clouds above the buildings

I hope you live long enough to see heroes turn into villains

Oh, you think I’m a Joker? Well, riddle me this

You love your mother?

Well, I’m cleanin’ out your closet for you and your half-brother

And I told you when I was in Detroit, I wanna go to 8 Mile

‘Cause when I was little to get some M&M’s, I had to walk eight miles

But you wouldn’t leave the studio, your life is on loop

That’s why I’m doggy in style, ’cause niggas rather bump Snoop

And I’m a lyrical .50 cal

Leave his brain all thin, wind, the games all endin’

The chainsaw, vrin, vrin

Hello? Hello?

Pagin’ Dr. Dre?

He ain’t got a lot to say

But since Curtis always do, let him write the rhymes for you

Tell him to clip the wings on my butterfly tatt’ and force ’em back in the cocoon

Now does he still rap or did he have a change of heart too?

The chick on the show wasn’t pickin’ me and Mariah wasn’t pickin’ you

So the cannons is blam-blammin’ and if it jam then I unjam it

And wipe down my stripper pole with the hair grease from your bandana

You wish you was Santana or Cam in them 10 J’s

Durag for ten years and never had one wave

And I was that runaway slave, that they buried in that one grave

And some say he would back to haunt Slim Shady one day

Now I’m here, hope you ready, this is not mom’s spaghetti

This your dad was twenty-two when he ate lil’ Debbie

He takes the cake

‘Cause she was only fifteen, so how could one not sympathize with her havin’ you as a teen?

She had to lose herself in the moment, give up her dreams

Just to see her son out here lookin’ like a wigger in jeans (Yeah)

Little Marshall Mathers

Mad ’cause nobody thinks that little Marshall matters

That sentiment’s hard to gather

Let’s get this shit all together, the picture was ripped, I fixed it

But none with me, you, and 50, let’s stitch this shit all together

You like it, Slim?

I made it just for you

I even kidnapped Stan’s brother and baited him here for you

But you would just say, “No”

Probably leave us in the blistering cold

God made you damn near perfect, he just missed your soul

You ain’t the shell of who you used to be

And after you, it’s me, on the Uzi spree like it’s two of me

And Matthew’s dead now, it’s just you and me

The sweatpants, the dad hat, durag and no jewelry

Umm, is that cultural appropriation

Ask Paul if it’s even appropriate for me to make that statement, rude of me

How your day went?

Did you re-dye your beard or get another face lift or do shrooms in your mom’s basement

Until you nod and see spaceships

And the aliens inside it come and tell you your talent’s wasted

Then you wake up and you ain’t shit

I know you fiendin’ for a Dr. Dre bass hit

How ironic, an addict in a basement

And now I chronic, ’cause I done had it with the fake shit

You never understood ebonics or a cadence

I press everything like a weight bench

And every time the plate hits, you off another playlist

Sorry, it ain’t workin’ out

Niggas shootin’, Billy Blanks (It’s my winner’s speech)

While I’m here, I should really thank MGK, UGK, Tech N9ne, Uzi spray

My other twelve personalities wasn’t really in the mood today

Hi, kids, here’s somethin’ funny, let’s all say, “Nigga” once

Crashed the car, hit and run

Jumped out, hid the gun

Your fans want a rap god, well, fuck it, I’ma give ’em one

I came to put Slim in a box but he already live in one

Mr. Shady, don’t be shady

Pick that pen up, don’t be lazy

Call up Dre and get that Dre beat

Jump off stage if shit get crazy

Mr. Shady, don’t be shady

Pick that pen up, don’t be lazy

Call up Dre and get that Dre beat

Jump off stage if shit get crazy