Lucky You song by Eminem from Primary Album Album not found. The music is composed and produced by Joel. Genre is Rap, Hardcore Rap, Diss music. The Record company is unknown. Released on None.
video was originally posted on: Youtube
Lucky You Meaning
| [[Intro: Joyner Lucas] Woah, Joyner, Joyner, yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah [Refrain: Joyner Lucas] Yeah, I done did a lot of things in my day, I admit it I don’t take back what I say, if I said it, then I meant it All my life I want a Grammy, but I’ll prolly never get it I ain’t never had no trophy or no motherfuckin’ ribbon (Yeah, yeah, yeah) Fuck the system, I’m that nigga, bend the law, cut the rules I’m about to risk it all, I ain’t got too much to lose (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) Y’all been eatin’ long enough, it’s my turn to cut the food (Yeah) Pass the plate (Yeah), where my drink (Hol’ up)? This my day (Yeah, yeah), lucky you, fuck you too, woo! [Chorus: Joyner Lucas] Y’all gotta move, y’all gotta move, y’all gotta move Give me some room (Woo!), give me some room (Hey!), give me the juice Hop out the coupe, hop out the coupe, hop out and shoot Y’all gotta move (Boom, bap), y’all gotta move (Woo!), give me the juice [Verse 1: Joyner Lucas] Back on my bullshit, my back to the wall Turn my back on you, all of you finished (Bap, bop, bop) Back to these bullets, it’s back to the job Pull my MAC out and all of you runnin’ (Yeah, yeah, yeah) Back on my hood shit, it’s back to the pushin’ These packs and I’m actually pumpin’ Can’t fuck with you rappers, you practically suckin’ (Yuh) You might’a went platinum but that don’t mean nothin’ I’m actually buzzin’ this time Straight out the kitchen, I told ’em the oven is mine I do not fuck with you guys (Woo!) If I don’t kill you, just know you gon’ suffer this time (Yeah!) I ain’t no gangster, but I got some bangers Some chains and some blades and a couple of knives Choppers and jammies, a partridge, a pear tree My Twelve Days of Christmas was nothin’ but lies (I) Run at you hard like a sumo (Sumo) They say I talk like a chulo (Chulo!) I live on Mars, I’m not Bruno (Woo!) Bitch, I’m a dog, call me Cujo (Rah) You play your cards, I reverse on you all And I might just draw four like a Uno (Bup) Cállate boca mejor, maricón Little puto, and all of you culo (Joyner) They’ve invented a level up in the ghetto to get old Lookin’ for somethin’ I prolly can never find now (Yeah, yeah) Shit get relevant ’til all the beef die down (Yeah) In truth, a nigga just really want me tied down (Bop, bop) I’ve been alone and I never needed nobody Just only me and my shawty, I’ll tell these niggas to lie down Keep all the money, I never wanted the lifestyle I just pray to God that my son’ll be alright now (Woo! Woo!) I said ain’t no love for the other side Or anyone who ever want smoke (Joyner) When I die I’m goin’ out as the underdog who never lost hope (Yeah) You in the wrong cab, down the wrong path Nigga, wrong way, wrong road (Woo! Woo!) Snakes in the grass tryna slither fast I just bought a fuckin’ lawn mower (Vroom!) , [Refrain: Eminem] I done said a lotta things in my day, I admit it This is payback in a way (Yeah), I regret it that I did it I done won a couple Grammys, but I sold my soul to get ’em (Ah) Wasn’t in it for the trophies (Nah), just the fuckin’ recognition Fuck’s the difference? I’m that cracker, bend the law, fuck the rules Man, I used to risk it all, now I got too much to lose I’ve been eatin’ long enough, man, my stomach should be full I just ate, licked the plate, my buffet, lucky me, fuck you think? (Woo!) [Verse 2: Eminem] I got a couple of mansions Still, I don’t have any manners You got a couple of ghostwriters But to these kids, it don’t actually matter They’re askin’ me, “What the fuck happened to hip-hop?” I said, “I don’t have any answers” ‘Cause I took an L when I dropped my last album It hurt me like hell, but I’m back on these rappers (Yeah) And actually comin’ from humble beginnings I’m somewhat uncomfortable winning I wish I could say, “What a wonderful feeling! We’re on the upswing like we’re punchin’ the ceiling!” But nothin’ is feeling like anyone has any fuckin’ ability To even stick to a subject, it’s killin’ me The inability to pen humility Ha-ta-ta, ba-ta-ta, why don’t we make a bunch of Fuckin’ songs about nothin’ and mumble ’em? Fuck it, I’m goin’ for the jugular Shit is a circus, you clowns that are comin’ up Don’t give an ounce of a motherfuck About the ones that were here before you that made rap (Yeah) Let’s recap, way back, MC’s that (What?) Wreak havoc on tape decks (Woo) ADAT’s, where the G Raps and Kanes at? We need 3 Stacks ASAP and bring Masta Ace back ‘Cause half of these rappers have brain damage All the lean rappin’, face tats, syruped out like tree sap I don’t hate trap (Nah), and I don’t wanna seem mad But in fact (Yeah), where the old me at? The same cat That would take that feedback and aim back, I need that But I think it’s inevitable they know what button to press Or what lever to pull to give me to snap though (Lil’ bitch) And if I pay it attention, I’m prob’ly makin’ it bigger But you’ve been takin’ ya dicks and I’m fuckin’ back, ho (Get it?) On the brink, any minute got me thinkin’ of finishin’ Everything with acetaminophen and reapin’ the benefits I’m asleep at the wheel again, as I begin to thinkin’ about an evil intent of another beat I’ma kill again ‘Cause even if I gotta end up eating a pill again Even ketamine or methamphetamine with the minithin It better be at least seventy or three-hundred milligram And I might as well ’cause I’ma end up bein’ a villain again Levels to this shit, I got an elevator You could never say to me I’m not a fuckin’ record breaker (Yeah) I sound like a broken record every time I break a record Nobody could ever take away the legacy I made, I never cater Motherfucker, now I got a right to be this way I got spite inside my DNA (Yeah) But I roll ’til the wheels fall off, I’m working tirelessly, ayy It’s the moment y’all been waitin’ for like California Wishin’ rain to pour in that drought, y’all Been prayin’ for my downfall (Yeah) From the 8 Mile to the Southpaw Still the same Marshall, that outlaw That they say as a writer might’ve fell off I’m back on that bull like the cowboys , [Chorus: Eminem & Joyner Lucas] So y’all gotta move, yeah, y’all gotta move, yeah, y’all gotta move Give me some room (Woo!), give me some room (Hey!), give me the juice Hop out the coupe (Joyner!), hop out the coupe (Joyner!), hop out and shoot Y’all gotta move (Boom, bap), y’all gotta move (Woo!), give me the juice] |
