TerjemahanLirik lagu Eminem - Lucky You Diterbitkan Minggu, September 08, 2019. Tags. Eminem. Penyanyi/Artis: Eminem. Judul lagu: Lucky You. Genre: Hip hop dan Trap. Lyric song Eminem - Lucky You. Lyric Eminem - Lucky You. Whoa, Joyner, Joyner, yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, I done did a lot of things in my day, I admit it PRDEPOK - Lagu Lucky menjadi lagu kesepuluh dalam album terbarunya H.E.R. yaitu Back of My Mind.. Lagu Lucky dirilis bersamaan dengan album Back of My Mind pada 18 Juni 2021.. DJ Camper, Stacy Barthe & H.E.R. yang menulis lagu Lucky ini. Lagu ini berdurasi 3 menit 5 detik. Baca Juga: Luhut Sebut TKA yang Datang Lewati Pemeriksaan Ketat, Adhie Lyricsto "Lucky You" by EMINEM: [Intro: Joyner Lucas] / Whoa, Joyner, Joyner, yeah, yeah, yeah / Yeah, I done did a lot of things in my day, I admit it / I don't take back what I say, if I said it then I meant it / All my life I want a Grammy but I'll prolly never get it / I ain't never had no trophy or no motherfu Thismy day, lucky you. Fuck you too, woo! Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move. Give me some room, give me some room, give me the juice. Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, hop out and shoot. Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, give me the juice. Back on my bullshit, my back to the wall. Turn my back on you, all of you finished. Vay Tiền Trả Góp 24 Tháng. Joyner Lucas, Eminem Year 2018 405 2,919 Views Playlists 6 The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing Whoa, Joyner, Joyner, yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, I done did a lot of things in my day, I admit it I don't take back what I say, if I said it then I meant it All my life I want a Grammy but I'll prolly never get it I ain't never had no trophy or no motherfuckin' ribbon F*ck the system, I'm that nigga, bend the law, cut the rules I'm about to risk it all, I ain't got too much to lose Y'all been eatin' long enough, it's my turn to cut the food Pass the plate! Where my drink? This my day, lucky you F*ck you too, woah! Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move Give me some room, give me some room, give me the juice Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, how 'bout I shoot? Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, give me the juice Back on my bullshit, my back to the wall Turn my back on you all and you're finished Back to these bullets, it's back to the job Pull my MAC out and all of you runnin' Back on my hood shit, it's back to the pushin' These packs and I'm actually pumpin' Can't f*ck with you rappers, you practically suckin' You mighta went platinum, but that don't mean nothin' I'm actually buzzin' this time Straight out the kitchen, I told them the oven is mine I do not f*ck with you guys If I don't care you just know that you gonna suffer this time I ain't no gangster but I got some bangin' Some chains and some blades in and a couple of knives Choppers and jammies, a partridge, a pear tree My twelve days of Christmas was nothin' but lies I, run at you hard like a sumo sumo They say I talk like a chulo chulo I live in Mars, I'm not Bruno Bitch I'm a dog, call me Cujo You play your cards, I reverse on you all And I might just drop four like an Uno Cállate boca mejor, maricón, little puto, and all of you culo They've invented a level off in the ghetto to ghetto Lookin' for something that prolly can never find out Shake irrelevant and tell 'em to beef right now What you would nigga? You really want me tied down I've been alone, I never needed nobody Just only me and my shotty, I'll tell these niggas to lie down Keep all of the money, I never wanted the lifestyle I just pray to God that my son'll be alright now I said ain't no love for the other side Or anyone who ever want smoke When I die I'm goin' out as the underdog who never lost hope You in the wrong cab down the wrong path Nigga wrong way, wrong road Snakes in the grass tryna slither fast I just bought a fuckin' lawn mower I done said a lotta things in my day, I admit it This is payback in a way, I regret it that I did it I done won a couple Grammys but I sold my soul to get 'em Wasn't in it for the trophies, just the fuckin' recognition F*ck's the difference? I'm that cracker, bend the law, f*ck the rules Man I used to risk it all, now I got too much to lose I been eatin' long enough, man my stomach should be full I just ate, lick the plate, my buffet, lucky me F*ck you think? Woo! I got a couple of mansions Still I don't have any manners You got a couple of ghost writers But to these kids it don't actually matter They're askin' me "What the f*ck happened to hip-hop?" I said "I don't have any answers" 'Cause I took an L when I dropped my last album It hurt me like hell but I'm back on these rappers And actually coming from humble beginnings I'm somewhat uncomfortable winning I wish I could say "What a wonderful feeling!" We're on the upswing like we're punchin' the ceiling But nothin' is feeling like anyone has any fuckin' ability To even stick to a subject, it's killin' me, the inability to pin humility Hatata batata, why don't we make a bunch of fuckin' Songs about nothin' and mumble! And f*ck it, I'm goin' for the jugular Shit is a circus, you clowns that are comin' up Don't give an ounce of a motherfuck About the ones that were here before you to make raps, let's recap Way back, MC's that recap and tape decks ADATs, where the G Raps and Kanes at? We need 3 Stacks ASAP, and bring Masta Ace back Because half of these rappers have brain damage All the lean rappin', face tats, syruped out like tree sap I don't hate trap, and I don't wanna seem mad But in fact, where the old me at? the same cat that would take that Feedback and aim back, I need that But I think it's inevitable They know what button to press or what lever to pull To get me the snap though lil' bitch And if I paid attention I'd probably makin' it big But you've been takin' the dicks In the fuckin' back, ho get it? On the brink, any minute Got me thinkin' of finishin' everything With acetaminophen then reapin' the benefits I'ma sleep at the wheel again As I peak into thinkin' about an evil intent Of another beat, I'ma kill again 'Cause even if I gotta end up eatin' a pill again Even ketamine or methamphetamine With the minithin, it better be at least 70 to 300 milligram And I might as well 'cause I'ma end up bein' a villain again Levels to this shit I got an elevator You could never say to me I'm not a fuckin' record breaker I sound like a broken record every time I break a record Nobody could ever take away the legacy I made, I never cater Motherfucker now I got a right to be this way I got spite inside my DNA But I wrote 'til the wheels fall off, I'm workin' tirelessly, ayy It's the moment y'all been waitin' for Like California wishin' rain would pour And that drought y'all have been prayin' for My downfall from the 8 Mile to the Southpaw Still the same Marshall that outlaw That they say is a writer might've fell off But back on that bull like the cowboys So y'all gotta move yeah, y'all gotta move yeah, y'all gotta move Give me some room, give me some room, give me the juice Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, how 'bout I shoot? Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, give me the juice The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing 117 fans Written by Gary Lucas, Jahaan Sweet, Marshall Mathers, Matthew Samuels, Ray Illya Fraser Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind Sabtu, 24 November 2018 0700 WIBLucky You Feat. Joyner Lucas[Joyner Lucas] Whoa, Joyner, Joyner, yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, I done did a lot of things in my day, I admit it I don't take back what I say, if I said it then I meant it All my life I want a Grammy but I'll prolly never get it I ain't never had no trophy or no motherfuckin' ribbon Fuck the system, I'm that nigga, bend the law, cut the rules I'm about to risk it all, I ain't got too much to lose Y'all been eatin' long enough, it's my turn to cut the food Pass the plate! Where my drink? This my day, lucky you Fuck you too, woo! Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move Give me some room, give me some room, give me the juice Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, hop out and shoot Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, give me the juice Back on my bullshit, my back to the wall Turn my back on you, all of you finished Back to these bullets, it's back to the job Pull my MAC out and all of you runnin' Back on my hood shit, it's back to the pushin' These packs and I'm actually pumpin' Can't fuck with you rappers, you practically suckin' You mighta went platinum, but that don't mean nothin' I'm actually buzzin' this time Straight out the kitchen, I told 'em the oven is mine I do not fuck with you guys If I don't kill you, just know you gon' suffer this time I ain't no gangster but I got some bangers Some chains and some blades and a couple of knives Choppers and jammies, a partridge, a pear tree My twelve days of Christmas was nothin' but lies I run at you hard like a sumo sumo They say I talk like a chulo chulo I live in Mars, I'm not Bruno woo Bitch I'm a dog, call me Cujo rah You play your cards, I reverse on you all And I might just drop 4 like a Uno bup Cállate boca mejor, maricón, little puto, and all of you culo They've invented a level up in the ghetto to ghetto Lookin' for somethin' I prolly can never find now Shit get relevant until the beef die down In truth a nigga just really want me tied down I've been alone and I never needed nobody Just only me and my shotty, I'll tell these niggas to lie down Keep all the money, I never wanted the lifestyle I just pray to God that my son'll be alright now I said ain't no love for the other side Or anyone who ever want smoke Joyner When I die I'm goin' out as the underdog who never lost hope You in the wrong cab down the wrong path Nigga, wrong way, wrong road Snakes in the grass tryna slither fast I just bought a fuckin' lawn mower [Eminem] I done said a lotta things in my day, I admit it This is payback in a way, I regret it that I did it I done won a couple Grammys but I sold my soul to get 'em Wasn't in it for the trophies, just the fuckin' recognition Fuck's the difference? I'm that cracker, bend the law, fuck the rules Man I used to risk it all, now I got too much to lose I been eatin' long enough, man my stomach should be full I just ate, licked the plate, my buffet, lucky me Fuck you think? woo! I got a couple of mansions Still I don't have any manners You got a couple of ghost writers But to these kids it don't actually matter They're askin' me, "What the fuck happened to hip-hop?" I said, "I don't have any answers." 'Cause I took an L when I dropped my last album It hurt me like hell but I'm back on these rappers And actually comin' from humble beginnings I'm somewhat uncomfortable winning I wish I could say "What a wonderful feeling!" "We're on the upswing like we're punchin' the ceiling!" But nothin' is feeling like anyone has any fuckin' ability To even stick to a subject, it's killin' me The inability to pen humility Hatata batata, why don't we make a bunch of Fuckin' songs about nothin' and mumble 'em! Fuck it, I'm goin' for the jugular Shit is a circus, you clowns that are comin' up Don't give an ounce of a motherfuck About the ones that were here before you that made rap Let's recap, way back, MC's that wreak havoc on tape decks ADATs, where the G Raps and Kanes at? We need 3 Stacks ASAP and bring Masta Ace back 'Cause half of these rappers have brain damage All the lean rappin', face tats, syruped out like tree sap I don't hate trap, and I don't wanna seem mad But in fact, where the old me at? The same cat That would take that feed-back and aim back, I need that But I think it's inevitable They know what button to press or what lever to pull To get me to snap though lil bitch And if I'm payin' attention I'm probably makin' it bigger But you've been takin' ya dicks in the fuckin' back, ho get it? On the brink, any minute got me thinkin' of finishin' Everything with acetaminophen and reapin' the benefits I'm asleep at the wheel again As I peak into thinkin' about an evil intent Of another beat I'ma kill again 'Cause even if I gotta end up eatin' a pill again Even ketamine or methamphetamine with the minithin It better be at least 70 to 300 milligram And I might as well 'cause I'ma end up bein' a villain again Levels to this shit, I got an elevator You could never say to me I'm not a fuckin' record breaker I sound like a broken record every time I break a record Nobody could ever take away the legacy I made, I never cater Motherfucker now I got a right to be this way I got spite inside my DNA But I wrote 'til the wheels fall off, I'm workin' tirelessly, ayy It's the moment y'all been waitin' for Like California wishin' rain would pour In that drought, y'all been prayin' for My downfall from the 8 Mile to the Southpaw Still the same Marshall, that outlaw That they say as a writer might've fell off I'm back on that bull like the cowboys So y'all gotta move yeah, y'all gotta move yeah [Joyner Lucas] Y'all gotta move Give me some room, give me some room, give me the juice Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, hop out and shoot Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, give me the juice Lucky You feat. Joyner Lucas WoahJoyner, Joyner, yeah, yeah, yeahYeah yeah, yeah, yeahYeah, I done did a lot of things in my dayI admit itI don't take back what I sayIf I said it, then I meant itAll my life I want a Grammy, but I'll prolly never get itI ain't never had no trophy or no motherfuckin' ribbon yeah, yeah, yeahFuck the system, I'm that niggaBend the law, cut the rulesI'm about to risk it allI ain't got too much to lose yeah, yeah, yeah, yeahY'all been eatin' long enoughIt's my turn to cut the food yeahPass the plate yeah, where my drink? Hol' upThis my day yeah, yeah, lucky you, fuck you tooY'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, y'all gotta moveGive me some room, give me some room, give me the juiceHop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, hop out and shootY'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, give me the juiceBack on my bullshit, my back to the wallTurn my back on you, all of you finishedBack to these bullets, it's back to the jobPull my MAC out and all of you runnin' yeah, yeah, yeahBack on my hood shit, it's back to the pushin'These packs and I'm actually pumpin'Can't fuck with you rappers, you practically suckin'You might'a went platinum, but that don't mean nothin'I'm actually buzzin' this timeStraight out the kitchen, I told 'em the oven is mineI do not fuck with you guysIf I don't kill you, just know you gon' suffer this timeI ain't no gangster, but I got some bangersSome chains, and some blades, and a couple of knivesChoppers and jammies, a partridge, a pear treeMy Twelve Days of Christmas was nothin' but lies IRun at you hard like a sumo sumoThey say I talk like a chulo chuloI live on Mars, I'm not BrunoBitch, I'm a dog, call me CujoYou play your cards, I reverse on you allAnd I might just draw four, like a UnoCállate boca mejor, maricónLittle puto, and all of you culo JoynerThey've embedded the level, I been the ghetto to ghettoLookin' for somethin' I prolly can never find nowShit get realer, but till all the beef die downIn truth, a nigga just really want me tied downI've been alone and I never needed nobodyJust only me and my shawty, I'll tell these niggas to lie downKeep all the money, I never wanted the lifestyleI just pray to God that my son'll be alright nowI said ain't no love for the other sideOr anyone who ever want smoke JoynerWhen I die, I'm goin' out as the underdog who never lost hope yeahYou in the wrong cab, down the wrong pathNigga, wrong way, wrong roadSnakes in the grass tryna slither fastI just bought a fuckin' lawn mowerI done said a lotta things in my dayI admit itThis is payback in a way yeahI regret it that I did itI done won a couple Grammys, but I sold my soul to get 'emWasn't in it for the trophies, just the fuckin' recognitionFuck's the difference? I'm that crackerBend the law, fuck the rulesMan, I used to risk it allNow I got too much to loseI've been eatin' long enough, man, my stomach should be fullI just ate, licked the plate, my buffet, lucky me, fuck you think?I got a couple of mansionsStill, I don't have any mannersYou got a couple of ghostwritersBut to these kids it don't actually matterThey're askin' me What the fuck happened to hip-hop?I said I don't have any answers'Cause I took an L when I dropped my last albumIt hurt me like hell, but I'm back on these rappers yeahAnd actually comin' from humble beginningsI'm somewhat uncomfortable winningI wish I could say What a wonderful feelingWe're on the upswing like we're punchin' the ceilingBut nothin' is feelin' like anyone has any fuckin' abilityTo even stick to a subject, it's killin' meThe inability to pen humilityHa-ta-ta, ba-ta-ta, why don't we make a bunch ofFuckin' songs about nothin' and mumble 'em?Fuck it, I'm goin' for the jugularShit is a circus, you clowns that are comin' upDon't give an ounce of a motherfuckAbout the ones that were here before you that made rap yeahLet's recap, way back, MC's that what?Wreak havoc on tape decksADAT's, where the G Raps and Kanes at?We need 3 Stacks ASAP and bring Masta Ace back'Cause half of these rappers have brain damageAll the lean rappin', face tats, syruped out like tree sapI don't hate trap and I don't wanna seem madBut in fact, where the old me at? The same catThat would take that feedback and aim back, I need thatBut I think it's inevitable, they know what button to pressOr what lever to pull to give me to snap though lil' bitchAnd if I pay it attention, I'm prob'ly makin' it biggerBut you've been takin' ya dicks and I'm fuckin' back, ho get it?On the brink, any minute got me thinkin' of finishin'Everything with acetaminophen and reapin' the benefitsI'm asleep at the wheel again as I begin to thinkin' about an evil intent of another beat I'ma kill again'Cause even if I gotta end up eatin' a pill againEven ketamine or methamphetamine with the minithinIt better be at least 70 or 300 milligramAnd I might as well, 'cause I'ma end up bein' a villain againLevels to this shit, I got an elevatorYou could never say to me I'm not a fuckin' record breaker yeahI sound like a broken record every time I break a recordNobody could ever take away the legacy I made, I never caterMotherfucker, now I got a right to be this wayI got spite inside my DNA yeahBut I roll till the wheels fall off, I'm workin' tirelessly, ayyIt's the moment y'all been waitin' for, like CaliforniaWishin' rain to pour in that drought, y'allBeen prayin' for my downfall yeahFrom the 8 Mile to the SouthpawStill the same Marshall, that outlawThat they say as a writer, might've fell offI'm back on that bull like the cowboySo y'all gotta move, yeah, y'all gotta move, yeah, y'all gotta moveGive me some room, give me some room, give me the juiceHop out the coupe Joyner, hop out the coupe Joyner, hop out and shootY'all gotta move, y'all gotta move, give me the juice Sorte Sua part. Joyner Lucas UauJoyner, Joyner, é, é, éÉ é, é, éÉ, fiz muitas coisas no meu tempoAdmitoNão retiro o que disseSe falei, então tive a intençãoPor toda minha vida quis um Grammy, mas provavelmente nunca vou ganharNunca tive um troféu ou a porra de uma faixa é, é, éQue se foda o sistema, eu sou aquele caraQue distorce a lei, quebra as regrasEstou prestes a arriscar tudoNão tenho muito a perder é, é, é, éVocês estão comendo há muito tempoÉ a minha vez de cortar a comida éPassem o prato é, cadê minha bebida? Pera aíHoje é meu dia é, é, sorte sua, vai se foder você tambémTodos vocês têm que sair, todos vocês têm que sair, todos vocês têm que sairMe deem um pouco de espaço, me deem um pouco de espaço, me respeitemSaio de um carro luxuoso, saio de um carro luxuoso, saio e atiroTodos vocês têm que sair, todos vocês têm que sair, me respeitemDe volta ao meu jeito, com as costas pra paredeDou as costas pra vocês, todos vocês estão acabadosDe volta a essas balas, de volta ao trabalhoSaco minha metralhadora e todos vocês correm é, é, éDe volta à minha quebrada, de volta à vendaDesses pacotes e estou realmente faturandoNão posso sacanear esses rappers, vocês estão praticamente quebradosPodem até ter um disco de platina, mas isso não significa nadaNa verdade, estou no topo dessa vezAcabei de sair da cozinha, falei pra eles que o forno é meuEu não sou amigo de vocêsSe eu não matar vocês, basta saberem que vocês vão sofrer dessa vezNão sou um gângster, mas tenho algumas bombasAlgumas correntes, e algumas lâminas, e um par de facasArmas e pistolas, uma perdiz, uma pereiraMeus Doze Dias de Natal não passaram de mentiras euCorro até você como um lutador de sumô sumôEles dizem que eu falo como um bacana bacanaEu vivo em Marte, não sou o BrunoVadia, sou um cachorrão, me chame de CujoVocês jogam suas cartas, eu mudo a direção do jogoE talvez eu faça vocês comerem um Mais 4, tipo no UnoMelhor calar sua boca, cuzãoPutinho, e todos vocês, covardes JoynerEles inventaram um nivelamento, tô na favelaProcurando por algo que provavelmente nunca vou encontrarA coisa só vai ficando mais séria, mas até que a briga acabeNa verdade, esse cara só quer que eu vá presoEu vivo sozinho e nunca precisei de ninguémSó eu e minha arma, nunca vou mandar esses caras deitaremPodem ficar com o dinheiro, nunca quis esse estilo de vidaSó peço a Deus que meu filho fique bemDisse que não tenho amor pelos que estão do outro ladoOu qualquer um que queira confusão JoynerQuando eu morrer, vou ser lembrado como o azarão que nunca perdeu a esperança éVocê está no táxi errado, indo para o caminho erradoMano, sentido errado, estrada erradaCobras na grama tentam rastejar rápidoAcabei de comprar a porra de um aparadorFalei muitas coisas no meu tempoAdmitoDe certa forma, isso é o troco éMe arrependo do que fizJá ganhei alguns Grammys, mas vendi minha alma por elesNão queria os troféus, só a porra do reconhecimentoMas qual é a porra da diferença? Sou aquele branqueloQue distorce a lei, quebra as regrasCara, eu costumava arriscar tudoAgora tenho muito a perderEstou comendo há tempo suficiente, cara, minha barriga deveria estar cheiaAcabei de comer, lambi o prato, meu buffet, sorte minha, que porra você acha?Tenho algumas mansõesMas ainda não tenho modosVocê tem alguns escritores-fantasmaMas pra esses jovens isso realmente não importaEles estão me perguntando Que porra aconteceu com o hip-hop?Eu disse Eu não tenho resposta nenhumaPorque fui chamado de perdedor quando lancei meu último álbumDoeu pra caramba, mas voltei pra atacar esses rappers éE, na verdade, tendo vindo de um começo humildeFico um pouco desconfortável com vitóriasEu gostaria de poder dizer Que sentimento maravilhosoEstamos em ascensão como se fôssemos socar o tetoMas é difícil me sentir assim quando parece que ninguém tem a porra da habilidadeDe pelo menos falar sobre alguma coisa, isso me mataA inabilidade de escrever com humildadeHa-ta-ta, ba-ta-ta, por que a gente não faz um monte deMúsicas sobre nada e só fica balbuciando?Foda-se, tô mirando a jugularEssa porra é um circo, vocês, palhaços novatosNão dão a mínimaPara os que estavam aqui fazendo rap antes de vocês éVamos recapitular, lá atrás, MCs que o quê?Faziam sucesso nos toca-fitasADATs, onde estão os Kool G Rap e os Big Daddy Kane?Precisamos do André 3000 o mais rápido possível, e tragam o Masta Ace de voltaPorque metade desses rappers têm problemas mentaisSó falam sobre bebidas, tatuagens no rosto, cheios de leanNão odeio o trap e não quero parecer bravoMas, na realidade, onde está o antigo eu? O mesmo gatoQue pegaria essa crítica e miraria de volta, preciso dissoMas acho que é inevitável, eles sabem qual botão apertarOu qual alavanca puxar pra me deixar maluco putinhosE se eu prestar atenção, acho que provavelmente estou aumentando as coisasMas vocês tem levado pau e eu vou foder de volta, cuzões entenderam?Estou no limite, o tempo todo penso em acabarTudo com Paracetamol e colher os benefíciosEstou dormindo no volante de novo enquanto começo a pensar sobre as más intenções em outra música de sucesso que vou fazerPorque mesmo se eu acabar voltando pras drogasMesmo cetamina ou metanfetamina com minitinaÉ melhor ser pelo menos entre 70 e 300 miligramasE talvez seja melhor, porque vou acabar virando o vilão de novoExistem níveis nessa merda, tenho um elevadorVocê nunca pode dizer que eu não quebro recordes éPareço um disco arranhado toda vez que quebro um recordeNinguém pode apagar o legado que fiz, eu não abro mãoFilho da puta, agora tenho direito de ser assimTenho desprezo em meu DNA éMas eu escrevo até as mãos caírem, estou trabalhando incessantemente, eiÉ o momento pelo qual todos têm esperado, como a CalifórniaEsperando a chuva cair naquela seca, todos vocêsTem rezado pela minha volta éDo 8 Mile ao NocauteAinda sou o mesmo Marshall, aquele fora da leiQue eles dizem que, como compositor, deve ter decaídoSubi de novo em cima do touro como um caubóiEntão todos vocês têm que sair, é, todos vocês têm que sair, é, todos vocês têm que sairMe deem um pouco de espaço, me deem um pouco de espaço, me respeitemSaio de um carro luxuoso Joyner, saio de um carro luxuoso Joyner, saio e atiroTodos vocês têm que sair, todos vocês têm que sair, me respeitem Sorte SuaWoahJoyner, JoynerSim, sim, simSimFiz muitas coisas na minha épocaEu admito, não volto atrás no que eu disseSe eu disse, é porque tive a intençãoEu quis um Grammy a minha vida todaMas eu provavelmente nunca irei ganharNunca ganhei um troféu ou uma droga de homenagemDane-se o sistema, eu sou esse tipo de caraBurlo as leis, quebro as regrasEstou prestes a arriscar tudoNão tenho muito a perderVocê tem se alimentado há muito tempoÉ minha hora de cortar a comidaMe passe o pratoCadê minha bebida?Este é meu diaSorte suaDane-se você também, woah!Vocês todos têm que se mexer, todos têm que se mexerVocês todos têm que se mexerMe dê espaço, me dê espaço, me respeiteSuba no cupê, suba no cupê, que tal eu atirar?Vocês todos têm que se mexer, todos têm que se mexerMe respeiteDe volta àquela merda, minhas costas contra a paredeMe volto contra você e você está acabadoVoltar a essas balas, é voltar ao trabalhoAjeito minha MAC e todos vocês fogemVoltar ao meu bairro de merda, é voltar ao castigoEsses pacotes e eu estou realmente bombandoNão dá pra ferrar com seu rap, está praticamente uma drogaVocê pode ter ganhado platina, mas não significa nadaEstou realmente ansioso dessa vezDireto para cozinha, disse a eles que o fogão é meuEu não ferro com vocês, carasSe não me importo contigo saiba que você sofrerá dessa vezNão sou nenhum gangster, mas faço um estrondoCom algumas correntes e lâminas, e um par de facasArmas e sorte, uma perdiz em uma árvore de pêraMeus doze dias de Natal não foram nada além de mentirasPor que não aparece como um lutador de sumô? SumôEles dizem que eu falo como um zé ninguémEu vivo em Marte, não sou o Bruno [Mars]Vadia, eu sou um cão, me chame de CujoVocê joga suas cartas, eu viro o jogo em todos vocêsE eu ainda posso jogar um "quatro" como no UnoCale a boca seus fracotes, putos, todos vocês idiotasEles inventaram um novo nível de quebrada para quebradaProcurando por algo que talvez nunca possam encontrarAgite, irrelevante, e diga a eles para comerem agoraO que você faria, cara? Você realmente me quer presoEstive sozinho, nunca precisei de ninguémSó eu e minha armaEu direi a esses caras para deitarem no chãoFique com a grana toda, nunca quis esse tipo de vidaSó peço a Deus que meu filho esteja bem agoraDigo que não tenho amor pelo outro ladoOu por qualquer um que quis me matarQuando eu morrer, irei embora como o azaradoque nunca perdeu a esperançaVocê está no táxi errado e no caminho erradoCara, caminho errado, estrada erradaCobras na grama, tentando deslizar rápidoAcabei de comprar um aparadorEu disse muitas coisas na minha épocaEu admito, isso é o troco de alguma formaEu me arrependo de ter feito issoGanhei alguns Grammys, mas vendi minha alma por elesNão era pelo troféu, mas pelo reconhecimentoQual é a porra da diferença?Sou esse branqueloBurlo as leisDane-se as regrasCara, eu costumava a arriscar tudoAgora tenho muito a perderTenho me alimentado bastanteCara, meu estômago deve estar cheioAcabei de comer, lamber o prato, meu banqueteSorte minhaVocê acha que é dane-se? woo!Tenho algumas mansões, mas ainda não tenho etiquetasVocê tem alguns escritores fantasmasMas para essas crianças, isso meio que não importaEles me perguntam "O que aconteceu com o hip-hop? "Eu digo "Não tenho respostas"Porque eu ganhei um 0 quando lancei meu último álbumMe machucou demais, mas estou de volta nesses rappersE vindo, na verdade, de origens humildesDe alguma forma fico desconfortável com vitóriasGostaria de poder dizer "que sentimento maravilhoso"Estamos em ascensãocomo se estivéssemos batendo no tetoMas nada é roubado, como se ninguém tivesse capacidadeDe ao menos ficar em um assunto, isso está me matandoA incapacidade de fixar a humildadeHatata batata"Por que não fazemos um monte de músicas sobre nadaE enrolamos? ", e dane-seVou direto na jugularEsta merda é um circo, esses palhaços que estão surgindoNão fale um pingo sobre um filho da mãeQue estava aqui antes de você fazer rapÉ resumirLá atrás, os MC's queRecapitulando, gravavam fitasOito arquivos com os raps em Sol eO Kane está tipo, precisamos de três pilhasRápido, e traga o Masta Ace de voltaPorque metade desses rappers têm problema no cérebroTodos essas rimas fracas, caras tatuadasmelou como sêmemEu não odeio a parada, e não quero parecer bravo, masÉ de fato como o antigo eu, que levaria esseFeedback e atiraria nele, preciso dissoMas acho que é inevitávelTodos têm um botão para pressionarou uma alavanca para puxarIsso me dá o estalo pelo menos vadiazinhaSe eu prestasse atenção, provavelmente tornaria isso maiorMas você tem aceitado os pausNa mordaça, vadia entendeu?Em um piscar de minutoMe fez pensar em acabar com tudoCom paracetamol, e depois, colher os benefíciosEstou dormindo no volante de novoEnquanto eu começo a pensar sobre uma intenção malignaDe outra batida e um assassinato novamentePorque mesmo que eu acabe tomando uma pílula de novoAté mesmo de cetamina ou metanfetaminaCom o Manidon, melhor que seja pelo menos de 70 a 300mgE talvez eu tome porque vou acabar sendo o vilão de novoDe níveis para essa merda, eu tenho um elevadorNunca poderia me dizer que não sou um disco quebradoSoo como um disco quebrado toda vez que quebro um discoNinguém nunca pode tirar o legado, fiz um carro enormeO filho da mãe nunca teve o direito de ser assimEu tenho rancor dentro do meu DNAMas eu trabalho até despencar, trabalho incansavelmenteÉ o momento que vocês todos estão esperandoComo a Califórnia esperando por uma chuvaE aquela seca pela qual vocês têm oradoA minha queda de "8 Mile" ao "Nocaute"Ainda sou o mesmo Marshall, o fora da leiQue eles dizem que é um escritor que desandouMas estou de volta ao touro como um cowboyEntão vocês todos têm que se mexer simVocês todos têm que se mexer simVocês todos têm que se mexerMe dê espaço, me dê espaço, me respeiteSuba no cupê, suba no cupê, que tal eu atirar?Vocês todos têm que se mexer, todos têm que se mexerMe respeiteLucky You Feat. Joyner LucasWoahJoyner, JoynerYeah, yeah, yeahYeahI done did a lot of things in my dayI admit it, I don't take back what I sayIf I said it, then I meant itAll my life I want a GrammyBut I'll prolly never get itI ain't never had no trophy or no motherfuckin' ribbonFuck the system, I'm that niggaBend the law, cut the rulesI'm about to risk it allI ain't got too much to loseY'all been eating long enoughIt's my turn to cut the foodPass the plateWhere my drink?This my dayLucky youFuck you too, woah!Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta movey'all gotta moveGive me some room, give me some room, give me the juiceHop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, how 'bout I shoot?Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta movegive me the juiceBack on my bullshit, my back to the wallTurn my back on you all and you're finishedBack to these bullets, it's back to the jobPut my MAC on and all of you runnin'Back on my hood shit, it's back to the pushingThese packs and I'm actually pumpin'Can't fuck what you rapping, you practically suckin'You might've went platinum, but that don't mean nothin'I'm actually buzzin' this timeStraight out the kitchen, I told them the oven is mineI do not fuck with you guysIf I don't care you just know that you gonna suffer this timeI ain't no gangster but I got some bangingSome chains and some blades in, and a couple of knivesChoppers and jammies, a partridge in a pear treeMy twelve days of Christmas was nothing but liesWhy don't you holla like a sumo sumoThey say I talk like a chuloI live in Mars, I'm not BrunoBitch, I'm a dog call me CujoYou play your cards, I reverse on you allAnd I might just drop four like an UnoCállate boca mejor, maricón, liltle puto, and all of you culoThey've invented a level off in the ghetto to ghettolookin' for something that prolly can never find outShake irrelevant and tell 'em to beef right nowWhat you would nigga? You really want me tied downI've been alone, I never needed nobodyJust only me and my shottyI'll tell these niggas to lie downKeep all of the money I never wanted the lifestyleI just pray to God that my son be alright nowI said ain't no love for the other sideor anyone who ever want smokeWhen I die I'm going out as the underdogwho never lost hopeYou in the wrong cab down the wrong pathNigga wrong way, wrong roadSnakes in the grass, tryna slither fastI just bought a fuckin' lawn mowerI have said a lotta things in my dayI admit it, this is payback in a wayI regret it that I did itI done won a couple Grammys but I sold my soul to get 'emWasn't in it for the trophies, just the fuckin' recognitionFuck's the difference?I'm that cracker!Bend the lawFuck the rulesMan I used to risk it allNow I got too much to loseI been eating long enoughMan my stomach should be fullI just ate, lick the plate, my buffetLucky meFuck you think? woo!I got a couple of mansions, still I don't have any mannersYou got a couple of ghost writersbut to these kids it don't actually matterThey're asking me "What the fuck happened to hip-hop? "I said "I don't have any answers"'Cause I took an L when I dropped my last albumit hurt me like hell but I'm back on these rappersAnd actually coming from humble beginningsI'm somewhat of uncomfortable winningI wish I could say "what a wonderful feeling"We're on the upswinglike we're punching the ceilingBut nothing is stealing, like anyone has any fucking abilityTo even stick to a subject, it's killing methe inability to pin humilityHatata batata"Why don't we make a bunch of fuckin' songs about nothin'And mumble", and fuck itI'm goin' for the jugularShit is a circus, you clowns that are comin' upDon't give an ounce of a motherfuckAbout the ones that were here before you to make rapsit's recapWay back, MC's thatRecap, and tape decksEight DATs with the G raps andKane's at, we need three stacksASAP, and bring lap Masta Ace backBecause half of these rappers have brain damageAll the lean rappin', face tatssyruped out like tree sapI don't hate trap, and I don't wanna seem mad but in factWith a old-me at the same cat that would take thatFeedback and aim back, I need thatBut I think it's inevitableThey all got button to pressor a lever to pullIt gives me the snap though little bitchAnd if I paid attention I'd probably makin' it bigBut you've been taking the dicksOn the fuckin' gag, hoe get it?On the brink in a minuteGot me thinkin' of finishin' everythingWith acetaminophen then reapin' the benefitsI'ma sleep at the wheel againAs I peak into thinking about an evil intentOf another beat 'em and kill again'Cause even if I gotta end up eating a pill againEven ketamine or methamphetamineWith the Manidon, it better be at least 70 to 300mgAnd I might as well 'cause I'ma end up being a villain againLevels to this shit I got an elevatorYou could never say to me I'm not a fuckin' record breakerI sound like a broken record every time I break a recordNobody could ever take away the legacy, I made a navigatorMotherfucker never got a right to be this wayI got spite inside my DNABut I work 'til the wheels fall off, I'm workin' tirelessly, ayeIt's the moment y'all been waiting forLike California wishin' rain'd pourAnd that drought y'all have been praying forMy downfall from the 8 Mile to the SouthpawStill the same Marshall that outlawThat they say is a writer might've fell offBut back on that bull like the cowboysSo y'all gotta move yeahy'all gotta move yeahy'all gotta moveGive me some room, give me some room, give me the juiceHop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, how 'bout I shoot?Y'all gotta move, y'all gotta movegive me the juice

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