Fight Music lyrics

[Chorus: Eminem]
This kind of music, use it, and you get amped to do sh*t
Whenever you hear some sh*t and you can't refuse it
It's just some sh*t for these kids to trash they rooms with
Just refuse whenever they asked to do sh*t
The type of sh*t that you don't have to ask who produced it
You just know that's the new sh*t
The type of sh*t that causes mass-confusion
And drastic movement of people actin' stupid

[Verse 1: Kon Artis]
I come to every club with intention to do harm
With a prosthetic arm and smellin' like Boone's Farm
Hidin' under tables as soon as I hear alarms
Paranoid thief that'll steal from his own mom
Kunivin' Kon Artis with a bomb
Strapped to my stomach, screamin', “Let's get it on!”
A lush that love to drink, drunk-drivin' a tank
Rollin' over a bank, cops see me and faint
It's drastic, I'm past my limit of coke
I think I'll up my high by slittin' your throat
Push your baby carriage into the street 'til it's mince meat
Your mens been beat the minute, I step onto your street
This is fight music

[Verse 2: Bizarre & Eminem]
You know why my hands are so numb? (No)
'Cause my grandmother sucked my di*k and I didn't c*m (Oh)
Smacked this whore for talkin' crap (b*tch!)
So what if she's handicapped? (What?)
The b*tch said, "Bizarre couldn't rap" (Ha-ha!)
I f*ckin' hate you, I'll take your drawers down and rape you
While Dr. Dre videotapes you (Hell yeah!)
Satan done got me on this song, eatin' a hot-dog
Readin' the Holy Qur'an while I'm on the john
Tired of wearin' this yellow thong
Take it back, Sisqo, you know where it belongs
Now, here's a gun, I'll put it in your palm
Now go over there and blow up Dru Hill's arms
f*ck the love songs!
[Chorus: Eminem]
This kind of music, use it, and you get amped to do sh*t
Whenever you hear some sh*t and you can't refuse it
It's just some sh*t for these kids to trash they rooms with
Just refuse whenever they asked to do sh*t
The type of sh*t that you don't have to ask who produced it
You just know that's the new sh*t
The type of sh*t that causes mass-confusion
And drastic movement of people actin' stupid

[Verse 3: Proof]
Just bring who you gon' bring on
Who you gon' swing on
I'm King Kong, guns blow you to kingdom-come
Show you machine gun funk
Sixteen M16's, one pump
The snub in my paw, shove it in your jaws
Have you runnin' out this f*ckin' club in your drawers
We lovin' the brawls; there's nothin' to applaud
But, f*ck it, it's all good
The hood is up in us all; it's fight music

[Verse 4: Swifty McVay & Eminem]
I'm a n*gga that loves scuffles
And won't hesitate to sock you again with swollen knuckles
I'm like that, catch a n*gga like bear traps
Blow his head back
Right in front of the precinct (You hear that?)
I slap your freak, bump you and won't speak
If you step on my feet, you get drowned in your own drink
I suffocated my shrink just for talkin'
Came back and f*cked up his pallbearers
And made them drop his coffin; it's fight music
[Verse 5: Kuniva]
These beads I'm swingin' is stingin' them
See all these n*ggas?
When I step in the club I'm bringin' them (What up, dawg?)
If any n*gga lookin' too hard, we Rodney King'n them
Malice Greening them
And gasolinin' them with premium
Light a cigarette, flick it at 'em, or spit it at 'em
Hold up a picture of his family and kick it at him
Blast while you right-hookin', right when your wife's lookin'
f*ck fight music, b*tch, this is losing-your-life music

[Verse 6: Eminem]
If I could capture the rage of today's youth and bottle it
Crush the glass with my bare hands and swallow it
And spit it back in the faces of you racists
And hypocrites who think the same sh*t but don't say sh*t
You Liberaces, Versaces, and you Nazis
Watch me, 'cause you figured you got me in this hot seat
You motherf*ckers wanna judge me 'cause you're not me
You'll never stop me, I'm top speed and you pop me
I came to save these new generations of babies
From parents who failed to raise them 'cause they're lazy
To grow to praise me, I'm makin' them go crazy
That's how I got this whole nation to embrace me
And you fugazi if you think I'ma admit wrong
I cripple any hypocritic critic I'm sicked on
And this song is for any kid who gets picked on
A sick song to retaliate to, and it's called—
[Chorus: Eminem]
This kind of music, use it, and you get amped to do sh*t
Whenever you hear some sh*t and you can't refuse it
It's just some sh*t for these kids to trash they rooms with
Just refuse whenever they asked to do sh*t
The type of sh*t that you don't have to ask who produced it
You just know that's the new sh*t
The type of sh*t that causes mass-confusion
And drastic movement of people actin' stupid
It's fight music