Realest Lyrics – Eminem

Realest Song Lyrics latest song by Eminem, Ez Mil, Ezekiel “Slashmouth” Miller, and Mike Strange. The Lyrics were written by Ezekiel “Slashmouth” Miller, and Marshall Mathers and produced by Ezekiel “Slashmouth” Miller and Eminem

Realest Song Details

Realest Music

Realest Lyrics

If I was in the Philippines, he’ll be like my muhf*ckin’ Malcolm X to my Martin Luther King
Because he ain’t a fightin’ to go unnoticed
There’s no way I was gonna cross ’em off like he’s just some any rapper, like a one-hit wonder (Yeah)

I’m on whatever you on, I ain’t gon’ talk on the phone (Haha)
Keep that same energy f*ckin’ with enemies
It’s gettin’ temptin’ to run in your home (Who did that?)
Huh, buddy, I do it alone, Cudi said word to my homes
Don’t just go hit ’em ’cause I gotta drive
You focus on aimin’ that blick at his dome, no cap
You motherf*ckers be lucky as f*ck that ain’t nobody envious of you enough
Take it from me like a brother who dug off the mud on his head but done ended up cuffed
Then he just gets back, backed out again into a world where you double what he did
‘Cause you learn, you give it up, or get f*cked in turn, homie

I’m the realest in the business and everybody gon’ be envious of my beginnings
Got a circus for the sinners with bodies, so stop tryna be another addition
‘Cause I’m the realest in the business and everybody gon’ be envious of my beginnings
Got a circus for the sinners with bodies, so stop tryna be another addition

I done got hit on the head, barely survived that shit (Okay)
Minus a nine from ten, Eminem’s spot still sits
But f*ck a position, I’m tunin’ him in
Let all you rock out with it, I ain’t ever gonna be an opt-out mission
Get the Glock out with it, get to poppin’, dip out and smoke
With the homies we mobbin’, while I’m cleanin’ the stash of my calibers
Some of them might got ya’ name on ’em
Wanna brag about shit that could happen
I am the reason that they got a chain on ’em
When I rap, they consider me a Gatling
Fillin’ up mags, I’m finna go clapping
Get in that bag with a gold B rabbit, I know they hate this flow
I’m in the mode to get to killin’ again with the best stick in your dome
You’re never gettin’ a penny or less, stealin’ the flows
And I’ma spread it again as a test, sick of these hoes
They get to b*tchin’, the bigger the breasts, nevertheless
I’ma get it, enter with that trigger, never better
Instead of settin’ the bet up, I let up with the Beretta
Make it, “Duka-duka-doo,” on you b*tches in front of PETA
‘Cause I’m kinda gettin’ fed up of leavin’ y’all wet up like