Gospel Lyrics by Dr. Dre & Eminem
Cut em under cover, timeless
Ready for em, progress
Feeling like I’m just getting started
Two shots back for my dearly departed
You are now dealing with a monster
Boss shit — profits
Doc Dre bitch, I’m a prophet
Black Wall Street, n***** know what a stock is
Try me
N***** never see me, but it ain’t hard to find me
Unwinding
Shits blinding, still grinding
Uprising
Stop talking bout the past, I’m the future, n****
N**** like me still here, motherfucker go figure
Looking for my next gold digger
This summer here gone be colder than winter
Already told you I’ll fold you like hundreds of billions
And you can go missing, put that on my children
Bet that, n**** what
Regret that, run it up
And I’m about to sum it up
This shit here that problem
Living at the bottom of a bottle
Full throttle, my motto
Fucking with me like fucking with the lotto
That awful, in your nostril
In a brothel, this is gospel
Yea, ima need all that pronto
Yessir! Yessir! Yessir!
Ima ride till I die
Give a fuck if you bitches die
Put a motherfucking hole in yo face
Back up, bitch don’t even try
I am that motherfucker, been the coldest
Why you on that, no one know us
Overdosed on what dope is
Hip-Hop shit sell better than the coke did
Like a satanic cult
It’s an old ritual slaughtering goats, bitch
You fucking with the original
Flow sick and anybody can get it — COVID
I done wrote shit
That was so sharp I could slit my own fucking throat with it
So rich, I got more chips than my shoulders
And I’m about as approachable as a roach is
So better steer clear from in here
Comes a nuclear bomb for your eardrums
Lyricism at its most fearsome and fears we’re
On another tier like a tear duct, upper echelon
Your career sucked, it was sheer luck
Like a fucking leprechaun with his beard cut
You’re The Punisher, weapon drawn with a beer gut
Probably slower than a Decepticon with its gear stuck
(And I, What?) I serial kill
And you’re Kellogg’s, I love checks and I hate tricks
And you’re a fake bitch
I can spot you like you ‘bout to weightlift
Bitch I’m badder than cake mix
(but I) can’t be whipped with egg beaters
You cunts must be out of your labias
And God’s my alias, so if I don’t have faith in me
Then it basically makes me an atheist
Nick Diaz got the world by the tracheas
In a choke hold, in a sleeper
And me and Dre are like dog hair
We both in our lab coats like Retrievers
But like a Doberman, I’m a whole different breed of
Animal, mutt mixed with an overachiever
Oh, You’re the king of rap? You’re bout to be overthrown
Like a pass over the head of an open receiver
This shit can end up coming to blows like a weiner
But I ain’t finished with putting these hoes through the ringer
Like clothes in-between the two rollers, oh wait no
What I mean is flows interwoven, I treat em like thread
That’s how I wound up sewing machine up
So fucks if you don’t give em either
Time to ride or die cuz you’re either both or you’re neither
Throw a middle finger up if you’re rolling, but me I’m gonna
Ima ride till I die
Give a fuck if you bitches die
Put a motherfucking hole in yo face
Back up, bitch, don’t even try
I am that motherfucker, been the coldest
Why you on that, no one know us
Overdose on what dope is
Hip hop shit sell better than the coke did