Eminem, WESTSIDE BOOGIE & GRIP – Fuel (Shady Edition) Lyrics

Album on The Death of Slim Shady (Coup De Grâce) [Expanded Mourner’s Edition]

Track 21 on The Death of Slim Shady (Coup De Grâce) [Expanded Mourner’s Edition]

Fuel (Shady Edition) Lyrics
[Intro]
Smokin’ trees, I’m ridin’ ’round, come to my side of town
Lately, it’s been goin’, goin’, goin’, goin’, goin’ down

[Verse 1: WESTSIDE BOOGIE]
Come see how heavy it get,
I done seen way too much stress as a jit
Death in this section was present,
we preppin’ for war, so we feel like we better equipped
Brodie got demons he keep to his self,
probably won’t ever know, ’cause he never gon’ snitch
Hella resentment from lettin’ it sit,
I say, “I got him,” I’m never gon’ miss
I done put way too much prep into this,
back on your bumper how I’m wreckin’ this bitch
I keep on talkin’ ’bout healin’ that’s never gon’
happen, you know that I’m steppin’ on shit
I say the feelin’ I get from me killin’
a rapper just show me that Heaven exist
Shootin’ ’til ain’t nothin’ left in the clip,
shootin’ ’til I get respect in this bitch
I might just go get a Tec in this bitch,
I might just go at the ref in this bitch
Guessing you think this shit new to me,
huh? Guess you ain’t know what’s fuelin’ me, huh?
I just had enemies shoot at me, tell me,
just what could this industry do to me, huh?
Helpin’ the hood and the homies and plus
the community think that it’s two of me, huh?
Know where I go when it’s over, I run out of gas,
they gon’ say that they through with me, huh? Aw, shit
When all this shit gon’ get better? Bitches just fuckin’ whoever
Nigga just sayin’ whatever, niggas’ gon’
fold under pressure, honestly I ain’t no better
I had to hop out the hole and got cold as
a shoulder, I turned my emotion into sweater
I had to garner the power to work on my soul,
I ain’t tryna be broken forever
I see the smoke, and start runnin’ into it,
shawty you losin’ is so therapeutic
I kinda think that you want it to happen,
got put in a corner, you forced me to do it
You gotta tell me that bein’ a rapper is
hangin’ with rappers, and I ain’t into it
I’m with the shit, and I’m ready to prove it,
waitin’ on Marshall to say I can do it
This shit goin’ down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow—
See upcoming rap shows
Get tickets for your favorite artists

You might also like
Like My Shit
Eminem
The Day The Party Died
Kendrick Lamar
Kyrie & Luka
Eminem & 2 Chainz

[Chorus: Eminem & GRIP]
If I run out of fuel, I won’t
What the fuck y’all gon’ do if I don’t
Run out of fuel? (Down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow—)
That scares the fuck out of you (Look)

[Verse 2: GRIP]
I was slept on and left for dead
Sweat, wept, and bled for a game that barely kept me fed
Ain’t want the fame, just a spec of cred
Nowadays I take a check instead
The pen been steps ahead
If you mention him, them boys wet the bed
Get on a track with GRIP and get knocked out like yo’ daddy did
Whatever Deebo said to Craig, we can go head to head
Niggas play hard on the app
At they mama crib hatin’ on bars in a rap
From niggas that still starve in the trap
Clap back and it’s, “GRIP, you’re takin’ it too far, just relax”
These words I discard on the wax
Shit deeper than the cars and the racks
The fashion and gas, so when a star interacts
Got the soul of a field nigga with scars on his back
So pardon me if part of me feel a itch to click
Pitch a fit, blitz a bitch, split ya shit
GRIP in the kitchen with instant grits
Flick the wrist, they wish he’d miss, he’s six for six
Go back through the discog’
It’s obvious I’m the godliest, yeah, I’m sonnin’ y’all
I took the summer off
Just to let them get they mumbles off
about blocks that they ain’t spun at all
The uninvolved underdog
Summoned from a drunken slumber to
pummel y’all, but they don’t wanna brawl
This shit ain’t even fun no more
I mean, don’t nobody wanna come outside
They like, “You should do a song with so and so
Or maybe such and such,” this shit done, I tried
They must not got it in their arsenal or metacarpal
To pick the pen up and out-ink the man
Hm, but then again I’m partial
It really took Marshall just for me to get a feature? Damn
I know rap’s what I started with
But when your target market’s lethargic to the bars you spit
It’s harder to put your heart in it
But come too far to quit, now I’m on to guitars and shit
So don’t find it jarrin’ if I switch the whole style up
Want the old GRIP? Go get the old album
Any genre, same outcome
I’m on that bitch with a stick like Malcolm
Buck, buck, buck, buck
Buck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck

[Chorus: Eminem]
If I run out of fuel, I won’t
What the fuck y’all gon’ do if I don’t
Run out of fuel? (Down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow—)
That scares the fuck out of you

[Verse 3: Eminem]
I was up to my waist in debt, better yet,
face and neck, tryna chase a check
Sweat, labor for minimal as wages get,
just tryna get me a dub like a blank cassette (Yeah)
I worked for peanuts ’til the day
I met Dre and that gave me a little raise in net
Now nothing is close to disgusting as what
I grossed, so this must mean what I wrote makes me the
Illest rapper there is, was, or ever will be
That’s the real reason I still squeeze
and I fill these bars with so much vitriol
These voices in my head convince me,
I bet that Ted Kaczynski’ll feel me
‘Cause I serial-kill beats like Israel Keyes
My peripheral sees everything, you was POVs to rap G-O-D
From Little Caesars to filled arenas, I made it big, word to Lil’ Cease
“Fuel” remix, so who’ll be picked next, whose name gonna be next up?
Notorious B.I.G.’s death was the domino effects of 2Pac’s murder
Like facial tissue, whose clock should I clean next? Puff’s?
‘Til he’s in police handcuffs, guilty, will he step up
Like G. Dep and turn himself in? Who knows all the murders they’ll pin
On me next, so prepare for me to not choose none of my words carefully
I’ve been comparable to Ivan The Terrible, I’ll take a paraplegic
And I’ll slam his wheelchair on the cement at physical therapy treatment
Then laugh hysterically, these wimps are like Slim’s hair when he bleached it
Y’all need to lighten up, I give a fuck, I don’t care in the least bit
Kiss every square inch of my white rear end, I guarantee
That my elevator’s stuck somewhere between two levels emcees won’t ever see
I spit bars so barbarically, a fuckin’ parakeet wouldn’t dare repeat
I’ll never be runnin’ out of steam or kerosene

[Chorus: Eminem]
If I run out of fuel, I won’t
What the fuck y’all gon’ do if I don’t
Run out of fuel? (Down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow—)
That scares the fuck out of you