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Array
(
[sid] => 99979
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Ode to Eminem...
[time] => 2005-07-03 12:25:22
[hometext] => A rap I wrote comparing my life to the infamous
[bodytext] => Now in my own honest opinion, I don't know how come keep itchin Bout ya mama poppin prescriptions, Cuz you do the same ish. So who the hell ya think ya been kiddin? Now try to envision witnessin ya mama hittin the glass stick in the kitchen or the bathroom. The door's wide wide open and she starin right at you. That's when you facin the realisation and devastation of tastin victimisation, which leads to you becomin a mental patient. And try to imagine: ya baby brother runnin 'round ya house, Imitatin ya motha, with the crackpipe he just found hangin right out his mouth. Now try to think of the steady pace twenty four hours a day, of baseheads always comin up in ya place, ya mama's always runnin up in ya face screamin you such a waste. But inside: You still save a little space, just in case, one of these days, she changes her evil ways. 'Cuz the bond between child and mom could never be erased or replaced. Call me what ya want, But don't call me a fool. At least I still talk to my mother, Motherbleeper and love her too. (chorus) This is why they call me mello_d Hit me back, hit me back. This is why they call me mello_d yyou're wack, you're wack This is why they call me mello_d you call that rap? ya make me laugh. This is why they call me mello_d Hit me back, hit me back. Now why not open ya mind and try to think of the presence of dangers when you in the presence of strangers always up in ya house up on ya broken couch. They got tons of money and coke by the pound, A bag of automatic weapons the feds never found. Talk slick ish to those thugs and they was quick as ish to bust up ya mug, But I was cool with them, So they was helpin me out, tellin me how the game is to be played, and what its about, Til the feds came thru in a raid and cleared everyone out. Now on to deeper ish, And I don't mean disrespect, But its time for me to put ya head in check about the two million dolla drama between you and ya mama: Ya see mine stabbed me in the left side of my chest with a fork dog, six inches below my neck, only centimeters away from my heart. So I ain't got a problem with you or ya (bleep-ing) lyrics, I'm just so sick and tired of havin to (bleep-ing) hear it! Wouldn't ya know everytime I turn on the radio, It's you about ya mom and ya papa, ISH! Ya poppin ish! Why don't you grow the hell up and drop and stop it, Choose another topic for ya next project. (in Eminem's nasal voice) "What itch?" (me) I said ya makin me sick so eat some ish Slick! (chorus) [comments] => 1 [counter] => 195 [topic] => 34 [informant] => manic_x_pressive [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SongLyrics )
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