So Far...

So Far... madadaling guitar chords ni Eminem

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    • Verse 1
    I 
    own 
    a 
    man
    sion, 

    but 
    live 
    in 
    a 
    house

    A 
    king-size 
    bed, 
    bed, 

    but 
    I 
    sleep 
    on 
    the 
    couch 

    I'm 
    Mr. 
    Brightside, 
    glass 
    is 
    half 
    full 

    But 
    my 
    tank 
    is half 
    empty, 

    gasket 
    just 
    blew 

    Verse 2
    This always 
    happens, 

    thirty 
    minutes 
    from home 

    Gotta 
    lay 
    a 
    log 
    cabin, 

    only 
    option 
    I have 
    is McDonald's 
    bathroom 

    In 
    a public 
    stall, 
    dropping 
    a football 

    So every 
    time 
    someone 
    walks 

    in the john 
    I get 
    Madden 

    "Shady, 
    what 
    up?" What? 
    Come 
    on, man, 

    I'm 
    crapping 

    And you're 
    asking 
    me for my 
    goddam

    n 
    autograph 
    on 
    a napkin? 

    Oh, that's 
    odd, I just 
    happened 

    to 
    run out 
    of tissue 

    Yeah, hand 
    me 
    that, on second 

    thought 
    I'd 
    be glad 
    then 

    "Thanks, 
    dawg, 

    name's Tod
    d, a big 
    fan" 

    I wiped 
    my ass 
    with it, 

    crumbled 
    it up 
    in a wad 
    and threw 
    it back 
    and 

    Told 
    him, "Todd, 

    you're 
    the shit" 
    when's 
    all of this 
    crap 
    end? 

    Can't 
    pump 
    my 
    gas 
    without 

    caus
    ing 
    an acci
    dent 

    Pump 
    my gas, 
    cut my 
    grass, 

    I can't 
    take out 
    the fucking 
    trash 

    Without 
    someone 
    passing 

    through my 
    sub', harassing 

    I'd 
    count 
    my blessings, 
    but I 
    suck 
    at math 

    I'd rather 
    wallow 
    than bask, 

    sufferin' 
    succotash 

    But 
    the 
    antacid, it 
    gives 
    my 
    stomach 
    gas 

    When 
    I mix 
    my 
    corn 
    with 
    my 

    fucking 
    mashed 

    Potatoes, 
    so 
    what? 
    Ho, 

    kiss 
    my 
    country 
    bumpkin 
    ass 

    Missouri 
    Southern 
    roots, 

    what 
    the fuck 
    is upper-class? 

    Call 
    Call 
    lunch 
    dinner, 
    call 
    dinner 
    supper 

    Tupperware in the 
    cupboard, 

    plasticware up the 
    ass 

    Stuck 
    in the 
    past, 

    iPod, what 
    the fuck 
    is that? 

    B-boy 
    to 
    to the 
    core, 
    mule, 

    I'm 
    a 
    stubborn 
    ass 

    Verse 3
    Maybe 
    that's 
    why 
    I feel 
    so 
    strange 

    Got 
    it all, 
    but I 
    still 
    won't 
    change 

    Maybe 
    that's why 
    I can't 
    leave 

    Detroit 

    It's the motivation 
    that keeps 
    me 
    going 

    This 
    is the 
    inspiration 
    I need 

    I can 
    never 
    turn 
    my 
    back 
    on a city 

    that 
    made 
    me 
    and 

    (Life's been 
    good 
    to me 

    so 
    far) 

    Verse 4
    They call me 
    classless, I heard 
    that, 
    I second 

    and third 
    that 

    Don't 
    know what 
    the fuck 

    I'd doing 
    if 
    it 
    weren't 
    rap 

    Probably 
    be 
    a giant 
    turd-sack 

    But 
    But I blew, 
    never 
    turned 
    back 

    Turned 
    forty 
    and still 
    sag 

    Teenagers 
    act more 
    fucking 
    mature, 
    Jack 

    Fuck 
    you gonna 
    say 
    to 
    me? 

    I leave 
    on 
    my own 
    terms, 
    as
    shole, 

    I'm going 
    berzerk 

    My nerves 
    are bad, 

    but I love 
    the perks 
    my work 
    has 

    I get to 
    meet 
    famous 
    people, 

    look at her, 
    dag 

    Her 
    nylons ran, her 
    skirt's 
    snagged 

    And I 
    heard she 
    drag-races, 
    swag 

    swag 

    Tuck 
    in my Hanes 
    shirt 
    tag 

    You're 
    Danica Patrick 
    (yeah) work, 

    skag 

    We'd be the 
    perfect 
    match 

    'Cause 
    you're a vacuum, 

    I'm 
    a 
    dirtbag 

    My apologies, 

    no 
    disrespect 
    to 
    tech
    nology 

    But what 
    the heck 
    is all 

    of these buttons? 

    You expect 
    me to sit 
    here 
    and learn 
    that? 

    Fuck 
    I gotta 
    do 
    to hear this 

    new song 
    from 
    Luda? 

    Be an 
    expert 
    at 
    computers? 

    I'd rather 
    be 
    an encyclopedia 
    Britannica, 

    hell 
    with 
    a 
    Playstation 

    I'm still 
    on my 
    first 
    man 

    on some from 
    Zelda 

    Nintendo, 
    bitch, 
    run, 
    jump, 
    punch, 

    stab 
    and I melt 
    the 

    Mozzarella 
    on 
    my spaghetti, 

    put 
    in on bread 

    Make a sandwich 

    with Welch's 
    and belch 

    They 
    say this 
    spray butter's 

    bad 
    for my 
    health, 
    but 

    I think 
    this poor 
    white trash 

    from 
    the trail
    er 

    Jed 
    Clampett, Fred Sanford 

    and welfare 
    mentality 
    helps 
    to 

    Keep 
    me grounded, 

    that's why 
    I never 
    take 
    full advantage 
    of wealth, 
    I 

    Managed 
    to dwell 
    within 
    these 
    parameters 

    Still 
    cramming 
    the shelves 

    full of Hamburger 
    Helper 

    I can't 
    even 
    help 
    it, this 
    is the 

    hand I was 
    dealt, 
    a 

    Creature 
    of habit, 

    feel like 
    I'm trapped 
    in an 
    animal 
    shelter 

    With all these 
    pet 
    peeves 

    Goddammit to hell, 

    I can't 
    stand 
    all these kids 
    with their camera 
    cellphones 

    I can't 
    go anywhere, 

    I get 
    so mad 
    I could 
    yell, 
    the 

    Other 
    day 
    someone 
    got 
    all 
    elaborant 

    And stuck 
    a head from 
    a fuck

    in' dead 
    cat 
    in my 
    mail
    box 

    Went to 
    Burger 
    King, 

    they spit 
    on 
    my 
    onion 
    rings 

    I 
    think 
    my karma 
    is catch

    ing up 
    with me 

    Verse 5
    Maybe 
    that's 
    why 
    I feel 
    so 
    strange 

    Got 
    it all, 
    but I 
    still 
    won't 
    change 

    Maybe 
    that's why 
    I can't 
    leave 

    Detroit 

    It's the motivation 
    that keeps 
    me 
    going 

    This 
    is the 
    inspiration 
    I 
    need 

    I can 
    never 
    turn 
    my 
    back 
    on a city 
    that 

    made 
    me 
    and 

    (Life's been good 
    to me 
    so 
    far) 

    Got 
    friends 
    on 
    Facebook, all 
    Verse 6
    over 
    the 
    world 

    Not 
    sure 
    what 
    that 
    means, 

    they 
    tell 
    me 
    it's 
    good 

    So I'm 
    artist 
    of 
    the 
    dec
    ade, 

    I even 
    got 
    a plaque 

    I'd 
    hang 
    it 
    up, 

    but 
    the 
    frame 
    is 
    all 
    cracked 

    Verse 7
    I'm try
    ing to be 
    lowkey, hopefully 

    nobody 
    notices 
    me 

    In 
    produce 
    hunched 
    over, 

    giant 
    nosebleed 

    Ogre 
    style 
    as 
    I 
    mosey 
    over 

    to the 
    frozen 
    aisle 

    By 
    the frozen 
    yogurt 
    this guy 

    approached 
    me 

    Embarrassed, 

    I 
    just did 
    Comerica with 
    Hova 

    The show's 
    over, 

    I'm hiding 
    in 
    Kroeger buying 
    groceries 

    He just 
    had front-row 
    seats, seats, 

    told 
    me 
    to sign 
    this poster 

    Then 
    insults 
    me, 
    "Wow, 

    up close 
    didn't know 
    you had 
    crow's 
    feet" 

    I'm at 
    a crossroads, 
    lost, 

    still shopping 
    at 
    Costco 

    Sloppy 
    Joe's, 
    bulk 
    waffles 

    Got 
    caught 
    picking 
    my nose, 
    ah 

    Look 
    over see 
    these 
    two 
    hot 
    hoes 

    Finger 
    still 
    up 
    one of my 
    nostrils 

    Right next 
    to 
    'em stuck 

    at the light 

    The fucking 
    shit's taking 

    forever 
    to 
    change 

    It's stuck, 
    these 
    bitches 
    are loving 
    it, 

    rubbing 
    it in 

    Chuckling, 
    couldn't 
    do 
    nothing, 

    play 
    it off 

    "What 
    you bumping? 
    Trunk 

    Muzik? Yelawolf's better," 
    fucking 
    bitch 

    They want 
    me to flip 
    at the 
    label, 

    but 
    I won't succumb 
    to it 

    The pressure, 
    they want 
    me 
    to follow 
    up 

    with another 
    one 
    after 
    Recovery 

    Was so 
    highly 
    coveted, 

    but what 
    good is 
    a fucking 
    recovery 
    if 
    I fumble 
    it? 

    'Cause 
    I'ma drop 
    the ball 

    if I 
    don't get a 
    grip 

    Hopping 
    on shrub
    bery 

    on you 
    sons 
    of bitches 

    Wrong 
    subdivision 
    to fuck 
    with, 
    bitch 

    Quit 
    snapping 
    fucking 

    pictures 
    of my 
    kids 

    I love my 
    city, 
    but 
    you push 
    me to 
    the limit, 

    what 
    a pity 

    The shit 
    I complain 
    about 

    It's like 
    there ain't 
    a cloud 
    in the sky 

    and 
    it's raining 
    out 

    Kool-Aid stain 
    stain 
    on the couch, 

    I'll never 
    get 
    it out 

    But bitch, 
    I got 
    an elevator 
    in my 
    house 

    Ants 
    and 
    a mouse, 

    I'm 
    living the 
    dream 

    Verse 8
    Maybe 
    that's 
    why 
    I feel 
    so 
    strange 

    Got 
    it all, 
    but 
    I still 
    won't 
    change 

    Maybe 
    that's why 
    I can't 
    leave 

    Detroit 

    It's the motivation 
    that 
    keeps 
    me 
    going 

    This 
    is the 
    inspiration 
    I need 

    I 
    can never 
    turn 
    my 
    back 
    on a city 

    that 
    made 
    me 
    and 

    (Life's
    been 
    good to 
    me 
    so far) 


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