Lyrics:

Uh, Slim Shady (Ch-ch-ch-ch-)
Uh, Slim Shady
Uh, Slim Shady (Ch-ch-ch-ch-)
Ooh (Uh), yeah

Well, I do pop pills, I keep my tube socks filled
Then pop the same shit that got 2Pac killed
Spit game to these hoes like a soap opera episode
Then punch a bitch in the nose 'til her whole face explodes
There's three things I hate: girls, women, and bitches (What?)
I'm that vicious to walk up and drop-kick midgets
They call me Boogie Night, the stalker that walks awkward
Stick figure with a dick bigger than Mark Wahlberg (Oh!)
Comin' through the airport, sluggish, walking on crutches
Hit a fucking ***** bitch in her ***** with luggage (Ahhh!)
It's like a dream I can't snap out, I black out, or back out
Lookin' for somebody of to beat the crap out
I'm bringing you rap singers two middle fingers (Eat this)
I flip you off in French, then translate it to English
Then I'ma vanish off the face of the planet and come back
Speaking so much Spanish, Pun can't even understand it

Won't you busa rhyme for me, boy?
(It's the ill, that cool? Slim Shady)
Won't you busa rhyme for me, boy?
(It's the ill, that cool? Slim mothafucking Shady)
Won't you busa rhyme for me, boy?
(It's the ill, that cool? Slim Shady)
Won't you busa rhyme for me, boy?
(It's the ill, that cool?)

I had a huge attitude, started off staticky
Mad at you, had you mad at me automatically (One more time)
I'm not a commodity, I'm an oddity
Who oddly enough developed himself a Halloween following
It's so big, if I counted up all the freaks who follow me (One, two)
I'd probably owe Ozzy Osbourne an apology (Whoops)
College girls, live in an alcoholic's world
Full of hurl, head twirls every time the toilet swirls
Covered in throw-up, and I refuse to grow up
I won't budge, I still tell a grown-up to shut up (Shut up!)
I made this rap game suspenseful
Cause now I got an impulse game to insult you wit' a pencil (Bitch)
They waste the paper on you, chopping down the oakwood
Cause everything that you wrote in your notebook was no good
And as long as I stay in the studio and keep cuttin'
You motherfuckers are puttin' your words together for nothin'

Won't you busa rhyme for me, boy?
(It's the ill, that cool? Slim Shady)
Won't you busa rhyme for me, boy?
(It's the ill, that cool? Slim mothafucking Shady)
Won't you busa rhyme for me, boy?
(It's the ill, that cool? Slim Shady)
Won't you busa rhyme for me, boy?
(It's the ill, that cool?)

Turn the music up, we gon' wake the neighbors (Uh, uh)
We gon' get high, we gon' roll to Vegas (Uh huh, uh)
Me and Slim Shady on some shit daily (Uh, wha-wha?)
What you want, what you got
Is it hot, is it hot?
Turn the music up, we gon' wake the neighbors (Uh, uh)
We gon' get high, we gon' roll to Vegas (Uh huh, uh)
Me and Slim Shady, on some shit daily (Wha-wha? Yo)
What you want, what you want? Uh yo...

'A person from another planet might disagree with you.'
'Well, if you want my opinion, he comes from right here on Earth.'
Slim Shady, Misdemeanor
Timbaland
Slim Shady, Misdemeanor
I'm homicidal and suicidal with no friends
Holding a gun with no handle, just a barrel at both ends
Sprayin' TECs at you until you see your fucking legs
With the bullet holes and the exit wounds laying next to you (Ah!)
Fucking mad dog, foaming at the mouth (Grrr)
Fuck mouth, my whole house is foaming at the couch
Jumped out of the 93rd floor of a building
And shot every window out on the way down to the ground
(Keep filming!)
Woke up to a hospital staff, got up and laughed
Chopped 'em in half, suffocated the oxygen mask
Shit, if I get any higher
I'ma get the East and West beefing again
Fly back to Detroit and stand in the crossfire

Y'all better call the police 'fore I kill this track
Don't shoot Missy! Get back
Uh, I'ma put you all in the line
Uh, and I'ma watch you MC's die
Yo Mommy, Mommy, Missy done lost her mind
I think somebody done pissed her off this time
Yeah, I'ma have to bus' you through your chest and
Uh, you gon' have to clean up the mess (Uh-huh)
It's raining, raining and it's pouring loud
Never fear, 'cause pissy Missy's through the crowd
Uh, I hear that the gats go cha-pow
Who shot me dammit? Bitch get down
Don't walk when I talk, I never talk when I smile (Uh-huh)
I'ma lay em on down, like they lived underground (Uh)
For the sounds that me and Timbaland, we found
Get your ass kicked later or get your ass kicked now

Uhh, one-two Misdemeanor, Slim Shady, Timbaland, motherfucker
Uhh uhh uhh, two, two, two, triple zero, heheh