Lyrics:
gunned down by a cop.
Charles Whitman was the school tower hitman
Charles Whitman shot at people and hit them
Charles Whitman had a brain tumour in his
live in these days
"Slim for Pete's sakes put down Christopher Reeve's legs"
Geez, you guys are so sensitive
"Slim it's a touchy subject, try and just
the real Slim Shady please stand up
Please stand up, please stand up?
Will Smith don't gotta cuss in his raps to sell records
Well, I do, so fuck him
the real Slim Shady please stand up
Please stand up, please stand up?
Will Smith don't gotta cuss in his raps to sell records
Well, I do, so fuck him
I've come to terms that I'm a poltergeist
Travel the world unseen by eyes
A lonely spirit motivated by sound
Content to live with my feet off
imitating
So won't the real Slim Shady please stand up
Please stand up, please stand up?
Will Smith don't gotta cuss in his raps to sell records (nope)
and he said his name was Bernie
I put in a Slim Whitman tape, my wife put on a brand new hair net
Kids were in the back seat jumping up and down
and he said his name was Bernie
I put in a Slim Whitman tape, my wife put on a brand new hair net
Kids were in the back seat jumping up and down
song
I might blow up my radio, oh
You can clear the room
By playing Debbie Boon
Or crank your Abba records until dawn
Oh, I can even hear
Slim Whitman
song
I might blow up my radio, oh
You can clear the room
By playing Debbie Boon
Or crank your Abba records until dawn
Oh, I can even hear
Slim Whitman
(chka-chka, Slim Shady)
Hi, my name is (huh?)
My name is (what?)
My name is (chka-chka, Slim Shady)
My English teacher wanted to flunk me in junior high
(chka-chka, Slim Shady)
Hi, my name is (huh?)
My name is (what?)
My name is (chka-chka, Slim Shady)
My English teacher wanted to flunk me in junior high
the real Slim Shady please stand up
Please stand up, please stand up?
Will Smith don't gotta cuss in his raps to sell records
Well, I do, so fuck him
It's the T.I.P, Bun-B and Slim Thug
I got drank by the pint
Dro by the pound
Headed to the club in the boss top down
Slim Thug bout to clown
It's the T.I.P, Bun-B and Slim Thug
I got drank by the pint
Dro by the pound
Headed to the club in the boss top down
Slim Thug bout to clown
the T.I.P, Bun-B and Slim Thug
I got drank by the pint
Dro by the pound
Headed to the club in the boss top down
Slim Thug bout to clown represent H-town
If
on the hillside.
Showing love to your brother
Your sister and your mother
But we hate those people down the valley.
Wake hard in the morning.
See the young
wallet containing five dollars
in confederate money and nine newspaper clippings
that there is walt whitman's pen
it sat in his hand and drank ink
blossoms soft and green
Covered by the crimson shawl
And hidden by the leaves that fall down to the ground
Midnight comes and midnight goes
In between
around
Shielded by love in these battle grounds
The empire at stake we can't be shutting down
We got to protect the crown
Valley's and peaks
You're
struggle like I do
My shadow's my only, only companion
And at night he leaves too
Down in the valley, dying of thirst
I'm down in the valley
It seems that
nigga, I get it, yeah, I'm on the way
Tip of the Texas, yeah, there's no delay
Told him I need that piece by Johnny Dang
Down in the valley, you know we
Slim
Before you think my origin's my Achilles heel Slim
I ain't got no fuckin' problem being a Paki Slim
In a world of Islamophobia, immigration
the valley
Well, ain't it strange in the valley
There's a table spread
cnd your cup runs over
In the midst of dread
Streams are flowin'
By the grassy knolls
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