Eminem rapped the 12th verse for Big Sean’s big Detroit cypher and bodied everyone on that track.
Sean said that Eminem slid on the verse at the last moment. But the lack of time for preparations did nothing to this gem. There is everything: wordplay, alliteration, layers of meaning and spitting bullets in a manner nobody still can come close to.
[Verse 12: Eminem]
Bitch, you have never said a clever line ever
You murdering in the booth is the furthest thing from the truth
Rest assured, I’ma treat this roof like I’m peelin’ off
The plastic on a pill bottle, I’m tearin’ the ceilin’ off, yeah
Ripping rappers like they were wrapped in saran, bitch
And I’m strapped up with ammunition
And single-handedly takin’ over the game like I had an actual hand missing
But I only need one to clap
Animal ambition
The only fuckin’ way that you’re strapped is for cash
Wish you could slap in the damn clip in that motherfuckin’ imaginary little handgun you’re brandishin’
Bitch, if you pull up with the stick
It’s a car with a manual transmission
The chances are low to none that I will overcome my bipolar one
Voodoo dolls, I’m just pokin’ fun, pins to me are like loaded guns
When I’m holdin’ one, if I’m just fiddlin’ with it
This motherfucker discharges like me checkin’ myself out of the fucking mental hospital
And I get off like an acquittal, I spit it, you critique it
It feels like I’m bein’ belittled by midgets
It’s like holding a nuke or a damn bazooka
And walkin’ right up the middle of little kids’ fuckin’ pillow fight with it
You want smoke? I’m like hookah
Man, I remember back when I used to get jumped for my fucking Pumas
Run home and go fuck my room up
These streets will try to vacuum you up
That’s why the avenue where I grew up was 8 Mile and Hoover (What?)
‘Cause it sucked like a Roomba
But even if I would’ve went the indie route
I don’t have any doubt
I would still get blown like it’s windy out
Shoot ’til the clip is emptied out
This is the beginning of the ending, but I’ll put another clip in and spit these rounds
If I dig deep down when I’m in my bag like Fendi
Who am I offending now?
Got so many fucking detractors, feels like I’m gettin’ plowed
Had to put my money on a diet, I got too many pounds
You would think I’m turnin’ pages the way that I’m flippin’ paper
Middle fingers, them bitches get to wavin’ like friendly neighbors
I’m talkin’ loot like I’m rioting
Dick is so big, I can’t fit the entire thing through a tire swing
I don’t think it would be logic to say that I’m retirin’
But I should say bye-bye, earthlings
‘Cause I’m back on Uranus fuckin’ up this “Grindin'” beat, yeah
I took the pain and learned how to put that shit into a song
You listen for flaws and strip it and try to pick it apart
So when I’m rippin’, it’s hard to tell whether if it is really because
Of how offensive I am, or just what a bitch that you are
Like I never had to get my clothes at fucking St. Vincent de Paul
Like I don’t make sure every sentence and bar with a pencil is sharp, and I’m quick on the draw
Yeah, so when I pull it, surprise like Kendrick Lamar
You need to walk the Yellow Brick Road and find the chick with the dog
‘Cause y’all are missing a heart
Plus your bitch is giving out brain like the Wizard of Oz
This shit is like sitting in the principal’s office getting scolded for skipping
Y’all got detention tomorrow
I’m severe like Benzo withdrawal
Bitch, your skin’s gonna crawl
I’m invincible, I’ve been through it all
Like I never thought about just ending it ’til I got pissed off and put a fist through the wall
My back was against
Now I rap like I’m possessed, that’s nine-tenths of the law
Oh
Oh, fuck it
Listen to Eminem’s verse below:
