Don't Front

Don't Front Lyrics Eminem feat. Buckshot

Album: The Marshall Mathers LP 2

Youtube Video
[Intro: Buckshot]
Don't front...
Don't front...
Don't front...

[Verse 1]
Used to get bent, now I represent to the fullest
Pencil is full of insulin bullets
I'm like a Doberman Pinscher, Pitbull and a Rot' mixed with a toxin
The plot begins to thicken, I begin to spit like vintage Pac
Demented, demonic sinister...
Ever since the the doc' replenished me the day he gave me that shot
When I was just about to quit
So to not see him with me would a shocking image
And I'm the definition of what a concrete chin is
'Cause no matter how many times you sock me in it
And knock me to the canvas, even the boxing critics
Know that if I get off to a rocky start, I'll always have a Rocky finish
Eat me brocoli, spinach, cocky?
Nope - but I hope I offended you when I told ya how dope I am at this
And put emphasis on the "dope"
So when names come up in the conversation of who's the dopest
Better throw mine in it - and don't mind me
While I remind you of the flow you won't find anywhere when it fires
And I unload my pen explodes 'til there's no rhymes in it
Reload in no time, let insults fly ever sixty seconds that go by
So you know I meant it...
In school I was so shy, timid - two pairs of jean's I'd alternate
Bummy clothes, I 'member beggin' my mom for Kmart MacGregors
'Cause they were new - Saint-Vincent De Paul
Those Pony's were used, and no size fitted...
But kissed them old days adios, I did it
They said I was a gimmick, now I'm the one that those guys mimic
Now you fuckers don't wanna' go startin' no argument
'Cause you know I'll win it
Name a flow that's more authentic, and don't front...

[Hook: Buckshot]
You know I got I got cha opin - don't front...
You know I got I got cha opin, kid - don't front...
You know I got cha...

[Verse 2: Eminem]
Rest in piece to Big Proof, you was a beast
You lyrically mirrored me, molded my flow off of you
Your spirit's flowing through me
I love you, Doody - without you I feel so incomplete
I'm no king, no need for rose petals to be thrown at my feet
But watch the fucking tone when you speak
Feel like I'm in the zone, I'm in a whole different league
I'm a motherfucking... it's just me
No opponents can compete
And I've never been known to retreat from beef
BPP, follow trends or wallow in defeat
I'm still hungry as fuck, but can't even say bon appetit
Cause I don't know what to eat, fucking microphone or the beat
Bitch, nobody's mind works like mine
It's nose to the ground stone time, homes
Your mind's blown cause I rhyme like I'm still trying to get signed
Up in the Ebony Show cased with the nine screaming
''Who the fuck passed you the mic?''
Never asked you like my shit from the get
I'd rather ask you to wipe my ass, bitch
You had you a nice run, now take a hike
I ever meet my match I'mma strike that bitch first
Cause on the mic I gotta represent the real rappers
The real rappers get their motherfucking skills cracking
Word to Buckshot and... why the fuck not?
You don't like it suck cock - almost forgot
Before I signed with the Doc I almost signed with the Duckdown
Cause Rawkus didn't make no offers so motherfuck Loud
They jerked me around so what's up now?
Wow, how much of an asshole would I sound like
Rubbing it and holding some grudge now
Don't front...


[Verse 3: Eminem]
Late at night, used to catch a buzz, couldn't write
Now I write the type of shit to make you wipe away diapers
Cause you might leave the street
I'm on a street once you wipers couldn't wipe
It's hard to decipher what cypher I might jump into tonight
'Cause I'm hyper or something
Needed someone that's lighting this fire under me
It's breathing new life, it's like I already died once
I guess some people only live twice, and it's funny
My days are being broke
But so long ago I lost the concept of money
But you dimes won't get a fucking nickle from me
Oh shit, I'm down on one knee
I'm having a stroke of genius
Elizabeth I'm coming to you, honey
From boy to man, it's still make a whore moan like a...
I'm in another category, man
Don't put me up with them pop stars
I never needed a paddle on the back to get out a boy band
No offense, yes offense
Precedents has been set that will never be met
Little fingers pressed against Moby's nose
Shouts to Obie, the curtains closed on my show
(But never forget I'm the one you thought wouldn't make it)
You can't take it, oh
Got a whole generation of rappers
Coming up that are nutty with the flow
But convince me you've heard an emcee since me
Who's this good with fucking mincing the words
That'll make you feel like I'm pinching a nerve
Mentally disturbed
You might as well stick a knife in me and turn
It'll be like my skin being Indian...
Haa, bitch there isn't one, when will you learn?
Never been served if memory served I'd battle that
To my own recollection remembers these words


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