I’ve listened to this album over and over and I have finally convinced myself that (for me) this is Eminem’s best album. There is literally no filler on this album. From start to finish this is straight fire: passionate and inspired lyrics throughout. There are some lines that are questionable but with the heat and intensity he is bringing, it’s pretty easy to overlook those few lyrics.
The Eminem Show and Slim Shady LP and Recovery were all great, but there were some songs that just left you scratching your head. This has no filler; I’d say the worst song would be Asshole and well even that one has its moments and is a song I can still get down with. There is no unnecessary group track, the only other MC featured is Kendrick.
Despite a couple lyrics that show that EM will always be in a sort of arrested development, this is his most mature album to date. It’s proving a point when it has to and it’s heartfelt and emotional when it needs to be. I find it hard to see how Eminem will top this one, but one thing is for sure: this is a classic. Eminem provides 15 songs with every song at five-plus minutes, three verses each song in an era where so many rappers max out at two and not only that but he added an extra five songs that are also pretty good as part of a bonus disc. I can’t get compliment this album enough. Enough gushing over the greatness, let’s check out the best lyrics from The Marshall Mathers LP 2.
It’s like I’m in this dirt digging up old hurt. I tried everything to get my mind off you, it won’t work. All it takes is one song on the radio and you’re right back at it. Reminding me all over again how you just fucking brushed me off and left me so burnt. I spent a lot of time trying to soul search. Maybe I needed to grow up a little first. Don’t suppose an explanation I’m owed for the way that you turned your back on me just when I needed you the most. You thought it was over and you can just close the chapter and go about your life like it was nothing. You ruined mine but you seem to be doing just fine.
Here’s a sequel to my Mathers LP just to get people to buy. I also represent anyone on the receiving end of those jokes you offend. I’m the bullies that you hate, that you became. If you don’t stop after they call you the biggest laughing stock of rap who can’t call it quits when it’s time to walk away. Behold the final chapter in the saga, trying to recapture that lightning trapped in a bottle. Tragic portrait of an artist tortured, trapped in his own drawings. Tap into thoughts blacker and darker than anything imaginable.
Thoughts are entertaining, but docile and impossible to explain and I’m also vain and probably find a way to complain about a Picasso painting. So as long as I’m on the clock punching this time card, hip hop ain’t dying on my watch.
Who’s your daddy? I don’t know him, but I wonder is he rich like me? Has he taken any time to show you what you need to live? No, if he had he wouldn’t have ended up in these rhymes on my pad. I wouldn’t be so mad, my attitude wouldn’t be so bad, yeah dad. I’m the epitome and the prime example of what happens when the power of rhyme falls into the wrong hands. Hip hop is the devil’s music. Does that mean it belongs to me because I just happen to be, a white honky devil with two horns. Rappers better stay clear of me because it’s the time of the season when hate runs high. Who’s your daddy? I don’t have one; my mother reproduced like a Kimono Dragon. So dad let’s walk. Let’s have a father and son talk. I bet we probably wouldn’t get one block without me knocking your block off. This is all your fault, maybe that’s why I’m so bananas. I appeal to all those walks of life, whoever had strife, maybe that’s what dad and son talks are like. I’m kryptonite to a hypocrite, zip your lip if you dish it but can’t take it. Spread the word because I’m promoting my past until I’m passed out. The last Mathers LP that went diamond, this time I’m predicting this one will go emerald.
-Rhyme or Reason
Think I just relapsed. This bitch pushed me over the brink. The cops pulled me over, but they let me go because I told them I’m only driving drunk because that bitch drove me to drink. A woman broke my heart, I say he-art because you ripped it two pa-arts, and threw it in the garbage. On a scale of 1 to 10 I must be the holy grail of catches. I got an Oscar attached to my fucking name. I got 99 problems and a bitch ain’t one, she’s all 99 of them, I need a machine gun.
-So Much Better
I wasn’t ready to be a millionaire, I was ill-prepared. I was prepared to be ill though, the skill was there. It ain’t over until I say it’s over, enough when I say enough. Throw me to them wolves and close the gate up. I’m afraid of what will happen to them wolves. When the thought of being thrown into an alligator pit, I salivate at it. They said I was washed up, and got a blood bath. I’m not a rapper, I’m an adapter. Floor’s open if you’d like to discuss. Top 5 in this motherfucker and If I don’t make the cut, what like I give a fuck. I get excited at the sight of my blood, you’re in a fight with a nut because I’m a fight until I die or win. My respect if overdue, I’m showing you the flow no one do. I don’t own no diploma for school, I quit so there’s nothing for me to fall back on. I can see why the fuck I disgust you. I must be allergic to failure because every time I come close to it I just sneeze.
Why am I so differently wired, am I a Martian? What kind of twisted experiment am I involved in because I don’t belong in this world. That’s why I’m scoffing at authority, defiant often. Flying off the handle at my mom, no dad so I’m non-compliant at home. At school I’m just shy and awkward and I don’t need no goddamn psychologist. I’m outside chalking up, drawing on the sidewalks and in the front drive talking to myself. It’s either that or inside hiding off in the corner somewhere quiet trying not to be noticed. I’m crying and sobbing, I had a bad day at school so I’m not talking. Some cocksucker shoved me in a fucking locker because he said that I eye-balled him.
It’s mind-boggling because I obsess on everything. In my mind small shit bothers me…but not my father. He said sayonara then split, but I don’t give a shit. I’m fine as long as there’s batteries in my Walkman. Nothing is the matter with me. Headphones on, look straight ahead if kids try and start shit. But if this is all there is for me, life offers, why bother even trying to put up a fight. I think a lightbulb just lit up in my conscience. What about the rhymes I’ve been jotting. They are kind of giving me confidence. Instead of trying to escape through my comics, why don’t I just blast a little something like ONYX to put me in the mood to wanna fight and write songs that say what I wanna say to the kid that said I eye-balled him. Who would have knew from the moment I turned the mic on that I could be iconic, in my conquest.
Now I think the fact that I’m differently wired is awesome. If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be able to work words like this and connect lines like crosswords and use my enemy’s words as strength to try and draw from, and get inspired off them. All my life I was told and taught I am not shit. You thought I was full of horseshit and now you fucking worship the ground on which I am walking. Me against the world, so what. The most high exalting and I ain’t halting until I die of exhaustion.
Came to the world at a time when it was in need of a villain, as asshole, that role I think I succeed in fulfilling. I don’t think I ever stopped to think that I was speaking to children. Everything was happening so fast. It was like I blinked and sold three million. If anyone ever talks to one of my little girls like this I would kill him. I guess I’m a little bit of a hypocrite. Since when did this many people ever give a shit what I had to say. You have to have a goddamn vest on your chest, and a glock just to go out and watch Batman. You’re attractive, but we ain’t attractable. I hate to be dramatical, but I’m not romantical. I’m making up words you can understandable. You’re cracking a joke, it’s laughable because me and love is like a bad combination. I keep them feelings locked in a vault. My heart is truly guarded, full body armor. Only women I love are my daughters, but sometimes I rhyme and it sounds like I forget I’m a father. It’s apparent I shouldn’t have been a parent. I’ll never grow up so to hell with your parents
I’m about to bloody this track up so everybody get back. That’s why my pen needs a pad because my rhymes on the rag. Just like I did with addiction I’m about to kick it.
For me to rap like a computer must be in my genes. I got a laptop in my back pocket. Rappers are having a rough time period, here’s a maxi pad. I wanna make sure somewhere in this chicken scratch I scribble and doodle enough rhymes to maybe try to help get some people through tough times. Sometimes when you combine appeal with the skin color of mine you get too big and here they come trying to censor you. Like that one line I said on “I’m Back” from the Mathers LP1; when I tried to say I take seven kids from Columbine and put them all in a line, add an AK-47, a revolver and a nine. See if I get away with it now that I ain’t a big as I was. I’m devastating, more than ever demonstrating how to give a motherfucking audience a feeling like its levitating. Full of myself, still hungry but I bully myself. They’re asking me to eliminate some of the women hate, but if you take into consideration the bitter hatred I had then you may be a little patient and more sympathetic to the situation and understand the discrimination. Be a king? I think not, why be a king when you can be a God.
Imagination’s dangerous, it’s the only way to escape this mess and make the best of this situation I guess. This predicament’s despicable. I’m sick of just getting pushed, it’s ridiculous. This kid just took my stick of licorice and threw my sticker books in a pricker bush. I wanna kick his tush, but I was six and shook. This fucker was 12 and six foot. Momma always said if you had a brain you’d be dangerous. I’m a prove you wrong: I’m gonna grow up one day to be famous, find a way to escape this insaneness. Fast forward some years later, a teenager, I just got jumped twice in one week. They’ve stomped me into the mud, gee for what reason? You stumped me, but how do you get the shit beat of you and be upbeat? When you have nothing, no valid shot at life, chance to make it or succeed because you’re doomed from the start. I got some plans momma, these damn rhymes are falling out of my pants pockets. I’m starting to blend in more. I’m getting more self-assured than I’ve ever been before. Plus no one picks on me anymore. Something’s wrong with my head, just think if I had a brain in it. Thank God that I don’t because I’d probably be Dahmer. Now everywhere I go they scream out. I out sold the sell-outs. Middle America, hear them yell-out in terror, they were so scared. And those kids just about belted out whatever spout that fell out of my smart aleck mouth, it was so weird. Inappropriate so be it, I don’t see it. Maybe one day when the smoke clears, it won’t be as difficult. Who the fuck would have thought that one little lone MC would be able to take the whole culture and re-upholstery it and boy they did flock. I can’t believe this little hick locked this hip-hop shit in his hip pocket. God forbid I see a wizard and get a brain in my titanium cranium because I’d turn into the Unabomber.
You used to say that I’d never be nothing without you. I beg and I plead, drop to my knees and I cry and I’d scream “baby please don’t leave.” Snatch the keys from your hand. I would squeeze and you’d laugh and you’d tease, you’re just fucking with me. And you must hate me, why do you date me if you say I make you sick? You won’t break me, you’ll just make me stronger than I was. A beautiful face is all that you had because on the inside you’re ugly and mad. But you left and you took everything I had left and left nothing for me. So please don’t wake me from this dream, baby we’re still together in my head and you’re still in love with me until I woke up to discover that the dream was dead. I can’t count how many times I vomited, cried; go to my room, turn the radio on and hide. We were Bonnie and Clyde, no on the inside you were Jekyll and Hyde. I felt like my whole relationship with you was a lie. If you could’ve, took my life you woulda. At the time, no one could hurt me like you could’ve. Take you back now, what’s the likelihood of that? This morning I finally stood up. I held my chin up, finally showed a sign of life in me for the first time since you left me and left me with nothing but shattered dreams and a life we could’ve had, but I’m breaking out of this slump I’m in. I’m done being your punching bag. It was November 31st today, would have been our anniversary. I wrote it on the calendar, was gonna call you but I couldn’t think of the words to say. After all that’s said and done, I’m still angry, yeah I may never trust someone.
-Stronger Than I Was
You’re trying to save me, stop holding your breath. I wanted the fame but not the cover of Newsweek. Oh well, I guess beggars can’t be choosy. I wanted to receive attention for my music. I wanted to be left alone, public excuse me. Wanting it both ways, fame may be a balloon because my ego inflated. I hit the lottery but with what I gave up it was bittersweet. Somebody once told me to seize the moment and don’t squander it because you never know when it could all be over. Sometimes I wonder where these thoughts spawn from. Call me crazy but I had this vision: one day that I’d walk amongst you regular civilians. I ain’t here to save the fucking children, but if one kid out of a hundred million who are going through a struggle feels and relates that’s great. It’s payback, Russell Wilson falling way back, in the draft, turning nothing into something. Maybe I need a straightjacket, face facts. I am nuts for real, but I’m okay with that.
Come on, man I’m crapping and you’re asking me for my goddamn autograph on a napkin? I just happened to run out of tissue, yeah hand me that, on second thought I’d be glad then. I can’t take out the fucking trash without someone passing through my sub harassing. I’d count my blessing but I suck at math. Stuck in the past, ipod, what the fuck is that? Maybe that’s why I feel so strange, I got it all but I still won’t change. They call me classless, I heard that, I second and third that. I don’t know what the fuck I would be doing if it weren’t rap. I blew and never turned back, turned 40 and still sag. Teenagers act more fucking mature. No disrespect to technology but what the heck are all of these buttons? You expect me to sit here and learn that? What the fuck I gotta do to hear this new song from Luda, be an expert at computers? Welfare mentality helps to keep me grounded, that’s why I never take full advantage of wealth. I can’t stand all these kids with their camera cellphones. I can’t go anywhere. I get so mad I can yell. I went to Burger King, they spit on my onion rings. I think my karma is catching up to me. I got friends on Facebook all over the world. I’m not sure what that means, they tell me it’s good. So I’m artist of the decade, I even got a plaque. I’d hang it up but the frame is all cracked. By the frozen yogurt this guy approached me. Embarrassed, I just did Comerica with Hova. The show’s over and I’m hiding, buying groceries. They want me to follow up with another one after Recovery was so highly coveted, but what good is a recovery if I fumble it. Quit snapping fucking pictures of my kids. What a pity, the shit I complain about. Life’s been good to me so far.
I’m in something I don’t know how to get out of. Is that my soon to be spouse’s moan? That’s what I heard because after all this is her place so I gave her the benefit of the doubt. The thought is so scary that it hurts. My head already goes to the worst case scenario. You confirmed my low end theory though. I should have known when I made it all the way to third base, and that was only the first date. I could have made it to home plate. But fuck it I’m moving on, you women are all crazy. I’ll probably always keep playing the game of love. She doesn’t love me, no she don’t love me no more. So needless to say, I’m feeling betrayed. Here goes the broken record, cliché, it’s all my fault anyways. Each day is an instant replay. Simple misunderstanding but just as I went to slam on the brakes, I realized that she may be as crazy as me. I woke up in a dream state in a cold sweat, like I got hit with a freeze ray during a heat wave. I guess I eventually caved though because she’s laying next to me in bed. I woke up again and jumped up like fuck it, I’ve had it, I’m checking into rehab. I confess I’m a static addict, I guess that’s why I’m so clingy. Every girl I’ve ever had either says I got too much baggage or I’m just too dramatic. Man, what the fuck is the matter? I’m just a fucking romantic: I fucking love you, you fucking bitch! Don’t ask me for a date, well the sentiments great, but wait there’s been a mistake. You want an intimate date, I want to intimidate. I have infinite hate in my blood, it’s mainly because of the game of love.
Mom, I know I let you down. I know he’s not around, but don’t you place the blame on me as you pour yourself another drink. I guess we are who we are. Maybe we took this too far. Never thinking about who what I said hurt, my mom probably got it the worst. But as stubborn as we are did I take it too far? But regardless I don’t hate you because you’re still beautiful to me because you’re my mom. My house was Vietnam; Desert Storm and both of us together can form an atomic bomb. Forever we can drag this on and on, but agree to disagree. Why we always at each other’s throats, especially when dad, he fucked us both. We’re in the same fucking boat. You’d think that it’d make us close. Further away it drove us. That’s when I realized you were sick and it wasn’t fixable or changeable and to this day we remained estranged and I hate it though. You didn’t even get to witness your grandbaby’s growth. I’m sorry mama for Cleaning Out My Closet, at the time I was angry, rightfully maybe so. I never meant to that far to take it though. Now I know it’s not your fault and I’m not making jokes. That song I no longer play at shows and I cringe every time it’s on the radio. I think of all the medicine you fed us and how I just wanted you to taste your own but now the medications taken over and your mental state is deteriorating slow. I’m way too old to cry, that shit’s painful though. But ma, I forgive you so does Nathan. All you did, all you said, you did your best to raise us both. Foster care, that cross you bare, few may be as heavy as yours, but I love you Debbie Mathers. One thing I never asked was where the fuck my deadbeat dad was. Fuck it, I guess he had trouble keeping up with every address but I’d have flipped every mattress, every rock and desert cactus; own a collection of maps and followed my kids to the edge of the atlas. Someone ever moved them from me? You could bet your ass I’d come down the chimney dressed as Santa, kidnap them. Only one has met their grandma; one you pulled up in our drive one night as we were leaving. We introduced you, hugged you and as you left I had this overwhelming sadness come over me as we pulled off to go our separate paths. I saw your headlights as I looked back and I’m mad I didn’t get the chance to thank you for being my mom and my dad so mom, please accept this as a tribute. I wrote this on the jet I guess I had to get this off my chest. I hope I get the chance to lay it before I’m dead. The stewardess said to fasten my seatbelt, I guess we’re crashing. If I’m not dreaming, I hope you get this message that I’ll always love you from afar.
I’m in a strange place. I feel like Mase when he gave up the game for his faith. I need a change of pace because the pace I’m working at is dangerous. There’s nowhere to dump this anger. I’m going all out in this rap shit and whatever the fallout is I’m strapped for battles. I believe people can change, but only for the worse. I could’ve changed the world if it wasn’t for this verse. I’d rather be loud and I like swearing. From the first album even the gals were like, “tight lyrics, dreamy eyes.” But my fucking mouth was nightmare-ish. Sometimes I listen and revisit them old albums; skim through all them bitches to make sure I keep up with my competition. Bed-written and destined to never leave the bedroom ever again like the legend of Heath Ledger. My suicide note is barely legible, read the bottom; it’s signed by the Joker. Fuck top 5, bitch I’m top 4! That includes Biggie and Pac, whore, and I got an evil twin so who do you think that 3rd and that 4th spot is for? It just hit me that I should call the looney police to come get me. You think I’m looking for romance because I’m lonely? Change that tune, you ain’t got a remote chance to control me. I’m only vulnerable when I got a boner. Don’t try to fix me. I’m broke so I don’t work. So are you, but you’re broke because you don’t work. All bullshit aside, I hit a stride; still Shady inside, hair every bit as dyed as it used to be when I first introduced you to my skiddish side.