Eminem - Nuttin' to Do (Clean Radio Version) Song Lyrics

About Eminem: Marshall Bruce Mathers III (born October 17, 1972), known professionally as Eminem (/ˌɛmɪˈnɛm/; often stylized as EMINƎM), is an American rapper, songwriter, record producer, record executive, and actor. He is consistently cited as one of the greatest and most influential artists of all time in any genre, with Rolling Stone ranking him 83rd on its list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time and labelling him the “King of Hip Hop”.

Featured Singers: Eminem, Bad Meets Evil

Lyrics:

The very best of game recordings
The finest in hip hop entertainment
Hello, I’m naughty
One of the sexy sexy game girls you all love to love
And I wanna welcome you to game tight
So, sit back, relax and get your groove on

The Bad
Yeah
The Evil
The Bad
Yeah
The Evil
Right, yo
Put em together

Yo if it wasn’t for your whip, I’d have nothing to strip
If it wasn’t for a wrist, I’d have nothing to slit
If it wasn’t for the shrooms, I’d have nothing to chew
Yo
I’m just f*cking with you, cause I got nothing to do

I am bored!
I came in the diner with skateboarders, and placed orders
Ate hors d’oeuvres, and hit the waiter with plate warmers
Let you inhale the glock smell, while I’m ripping your wallet off

And slipping a Molotov in your Cocktail (take that)
Burning your contracts, punch your A&R in the face
Smash his glasses and turn em to contacts
I’m on some shook shit, if it’s missing I took it (whoops!)

Nurse look at this straitjacket, it’s crooked!
I go to jail and murder you from a cell
Put a knife in an envelope and have you stabbed in the mail (FedEx)
So how do you describe someone, with a decapitated head
When the rest of his body’s still alive running?

Coming with five gunmen, waiting to do a drive-by
So when you see the black 500 (what?) hide from it
For every hundred MC’s rhyming about birds
Only about two-thirds’d really set it without words

Yo you ain’t a thug, I can make you bitch up
Pick the fifth up, cock, spit, you would swear it’s raining slugs (what?)
I’m the hottest shit in the industry (uh)
I got every thug on the block that get a wind of me defending me

You lack class and respect, get a direct backblast
The Bad and Evil mad rap, I cover the Bad half
You know how a thug in this shit’ll end up
Spit a round, lift your chin up, you get hit, ten down and ten up (what?)

I take it if you run your mouth, then you want to get sent up
Heat it up, you be leaking blood and spitting phlegm up
Now we rivals, cause of a small name or title
You stepped, got devoured and left with a flower and bible

Forget a chorus, my metaphors are so complicated
It takes six minutes to get applause
And by the time you all catch on, I’m a end your career
And walk away with the whole floor so you have nothing to fall back on!

I’ll throw you off of ten floors
Pull a f*cking headache outta my head, and put it in yours (take this)
I’m indoors, waiting for disaster to seep in my skin pores
To go outdoors and do some in-stores

This bitch wanted to blow me, I said, “It oughta happen
You swallow cum bitch?” “No, but I brought a napkin”
Getting skully while I’m autographing
Got my daughter laughing cause I sent her mother whitewater rafting

I’m not a fact, I’m a proven fear
Mr. Rogers blocked up my you-haul screaming
“Wait, wait, wait, you ain’t moving here!
Lorena Bobbitt, c’mere, want a souvenir?

I’ve been high as f*ck, since I was a juvi-neer
Juvenile? Same difference, I need some ‘caine
‘Cause I ain’t sniffed since I woke up the seven slain infants
(Oh my God!) Brain implants and they say there’s a slim chance
I won’t stay the same cause I traded brains with a chimpanz’

Walking in swamp water with an M-16, out for the blood
Shove a gun in the mouth of a thug
To break braces, you say grace and make faces
I’ll display hate and break you in eight places (what?)

Take paces, turn around draw in a standoff
Precise aim, icing my fame, blowing your hand off
Dancing with the Devil leading, I won’t die, I’m never leaving (what?)
I pledge allegiance to forever breathing

Street niggas with nuts, what? My meat’s bigger (what?)
Fake-ass thugs with toy guns and cheap triggers
With a deathwish, thinking I’m the nigga to mess with
Let the tech lift, direct chest hit, melt your necklace

For instance, you just a henchmen, on tough soil (what?)
A follower never had heart, he just loyal
Thugs is glass doors, I see through em, put the heat to em
Be careful you might get what you ask for

If it wasn’t for your whip, I’d have nothing to strip
If it wasn’t for a wrist, I’d have nothing to slit
If it wasn’t for the shrooms, I’d have nothing to chew
Yo
I’m just f*cking with you, cause I got nothing to do

The Bad
The Evil
The Bad
The Evil