دانلود اهنگ Alfred’s Theme از Eminem

Before I check the mic (check, check, one, two)
I give it an extra swipe with a Lysol disinfectant wipe (good evening)
Coronavirus in effect tonight
Antiseptics on deck, I got every type (yeah)

I throw on my tux, then I (yeah) give zero fucks, then I (yeah)
Act like a jockstrap (uh), cup my nuts, then I (yeah)
Check my ball hair (what?), make sure its all there (yeah)
Then call the pallbearer (yeah)
Its Music to Be Murdered By again, why stop?
Overkill like a pipe bomb in your pine box
Youre all hitched to my cock (what?)

Went from punchin a time clock to getting my shot
Then treated it like a cyclops
Like its the only one I got
And my thoughts are like nines cocked (chk-chk)
Every lines obscene, pervertedest mind, got the dirtiest rhyme stocked
Thats why theres parental advising (visine) every time I drop (eye drop)

So throw on the theme to Alfred, Ill channel him like the Panama Canal
But how could I get up in arms about you saying trash is all that I put out?
Bitch, I still get the bag when Im putting garbage out
Plus, the potty mouth, Im not about to wash it out
The filthiest, so all this talk about "Im washed up", how preposterous
Because if cleanliness is next to godliness
Its obvious that its impossible for me to be beside myself

And Im bout that capital like a proper noun
Still on top the pile
Got me sitting on numbers like a pocket dial
Quick to call you out on your bullshit
Dont make me give that crock a dial

Cause if I do, its see you later, alligator
Made it out the trailer, then I made a vow to cater to no one
So hate, Ive gained about the same amount thats in my bank account
So heres some more shit for you to complain about, I say the
Bars that never slack, but always get attacked (yeah)
I think theyre gunnin for me, its startin to feel like that
Like Im marked, cause when I rap, its like fallin on my back in a tar pit
Cause I have this target on my back (ew, yuck)

But if I ever double-crossed my fans and lost my Stans
Id probably pop five Xans (yeah)
Go in my garage, start my van
Inhale as much carbon monoxide and exhaust I can
And doze off like

But odds like that, with these thoughts I haves
Like a giant getting squashed by ants
If this is the test of time, Id pass with flying colors
Like I just tossed my crayons (tossed my crayons)

Small, medium, and large size cans
Sanitizers of all types, brands, cost nine bands
Which is a small price for Lysol wipes and
If my palms brush across my pants, I wash my hands

Shit, hold on, man
Motherfucker
Happy birthday to-
Fuck (shh, quiet)

I sit in silence in candlelit environments
Sipping Wild Irish while getting violent
Homicidal visions when Im spitting like this
But really Im just fulfilling my wish of killing rhymes
Which is really childish and silly, but Im really like this
Im giving nightmares to Billie Eilish, Im Diddys side bitch

What the fuck? Hold on, wait
"Im Diddys side bitch?"
Oh, Im still east side, bitch

So until the E-N-D, since EPMD
Been givin yall the business (yeah), D-R-E and me (yup)
From the MMLP to MTBMB (bitch)
Bitch, its 2020, you still aint seein me (haha)

So call me Santa Clause (Santa Clause)
Cause at the present (yeah), I out-rap em all, Im at the mall
Got your bitch in a bathroom stall, she could suck a basketball (uh)
Through a plastic straw (yeah) with a fractured jaw (damn)

My dick is coat check (ha), she wanna jack it off (yeah)
Im so far past the bar, I should practice law
Mentally, Im fucked up General Lee (duh)
Dukes of Hazzard car (yeah), get the cadaver dogs
Cause this is murder, murder and youll get murked, murked

This music bout to kill you, brr, brr (brr)
This chicken hit my phone, she said, "Chirp, chirp"
I said, "Hut, hut, hike your skirt, skirt"
Then go eat some worms, like the early bird
What the fuck is love? Thats a dirty word
Make me fall in it, theres not a girl on Earth
Or any other planet, thats a world of hurt

And I wont buy a designer, cause I dont pander (panda)
But Im back with so many knots, I need a chiropractor (damn)
And this the final chapter, cause Im either frying after
Or they gon give me the needle (what?) like a vinyl scratcher (DJ)

Yeah, Im a card, like Hallmark
At Walmart with a small cart buying wall art
And yall who claim to be dogs arent
No bite, like a tree, mostly just all bark, arf, arf

But yall pickin the wrong tree
They call me dog because Im bar king (bark, bark)
And I got a lot, yeah, like where cars park
Id describe it as bowling (why?) ball hard (balls hard)

Cause the gutters where my mind is and when
Its in this frame, better split like the five and the ten
Cause without a second to spare, Im strikin again
And when the beat is up my alley, I go right for the pens (pins)

The cypher begins
Im talkin smack like heroin, the mics a syringe
Its like a binge, Vicodin, I would liken to tin
My mind is a recycling bin
Theres no place I never been
But I never budge and I never bend

You hyperextend on me, this games life, it depends
Like adult diapers for men
Even when Im rappin less stellar
Its sour grapes, I still whine, Im the best seller
Like a trey deuce, spray you as these shots penetrate through Dres booth
And go straight through your grapefruit, no escape route
So you wont leave here just scathed with a few scrape wounds
Your ass is grass and I am not gonna graze you

But if bars were semi-macs, Id be the Mad Hatter
Cause I got so many caps, and you dont have any straps (nah)
So youd be a fitted (yeah), so dont act like you fittin to snap
Bitch, Ill pee on your head like a Phillies hat (haha)

No stoppin me, youre on a window shopping spree
Bitch, you probably go broke at the Dollar Tree
You never buy shit, all you ever cops a plea
Youre always punkin out like Halloween
You rather opt to flee, you need to stop it, punk
Homie, youre not a G, act like you got the pump
And youre gonna cock the heat or get the Glock and dump
Bitch, if you shot a tree, you wouldnt pop the trunk

Yeah, and Im buddies with Alfred, we about to
Disembowel them, gut em and scalp em, yeah
This is bout to be the bloodiest outcome
Cause we gon make you bleed with every cut from this album

So Im choppin em up like Dahmer
The nut job with the nuts that are bigger than Jabba the Hutt
Im in the cut, and Im out for the blood
Its lookin like its that time of the month
Carvin em up with the bars while I sharpen em up, dog and a mutt
Im gonna fuck your mom in the butt with a thermometer
Fuckin phenomenal, but

Yallll get cut the fuck up like abdominals if you dont vámonos
I keep droppin like dominos, the formidable, abominable
Stompin a mudhole in my comp even if its off the top of the dome
Son em, get the Coppertone, Im at the Stop and Go coppin the Mop and Glo
Got your stomach in knots like you swallowed rope
You out of pocket though, like a motherfuckin wallet stole

Wait, whyd the beat cut off?
Fuck it