Almost Famous Lyrics

from Recovery

"Almost Famous" is track #8 on the album Recovery. It was written by Daniel Tannenbaum, Elizabeth Rodrigues, Pranam Injeti, Eric Albert George Alcock, Khalil Abdul-rahman, Marshall Biii(eminem) Mathers.
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"Almost Famous" is track #8 on the album Recovery. It was written by Daniel Tannenbaum, Elizabeth Rodrigues, Pranam Injeti, Eric Albert George Alcock, Khalil Abdul-rahman, Marshall Biii(eminem) Mathers.
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I can almost taste it
This shit makes no sense to me
What does it all mean?
I can almost taste it

I can almost save it
This shit makes no sense to me
What does it all mean?
I can almost taste it

Yeah, I can't stop now
This maybe be the last chance I get
To be famous

You dream of trading places
I have been changing faces
You can not fill these shoes
There is too much to lose

Wake up behind these trenches
You run around defenseless
There is too much to lose
You cannot fill these shoes

I just want to be famous
But be careful what you wish for

I stuck my dick in this game like a rapist
They call me Slim Roethlisberger
I go bezerker than a fed up post office worker

A Merc her with a Mossberg
I'm pissed off, get murdered
Like someone took a ketchup squirter
Squirted a Frankfurter

For a gangster, you shoulda shit your pants
When you saw the chainsaw get to waving
Like a terrible towel, I faced her around
But his fangs come out, get your brains blown out
That's what I call blowing your mind

When I come back, like nut on your spine
I'm a thumb tack that you slept on, son
Now here I come screaming attack like I just stepped on one

Low on the totem till he showed 'em
Defiance, giant scrotum
He don't owe them bitches shit
His britches, he out grow'd 'em

He's so out cold he's knocked out of the South Pole
And nobody fucks with him
Rigamortis and postmortem
He's dying of boredom

Take your best rhymes, record 'em
Then try to flaunt 'em
He'll just take your punch lines and snort 'em
Shit stained drawers

You gon fuck with a guy who licks the blades of his chainsaws
While he dips 'em in P.F. Chang's sauce
Game's up, homie, hang it up like some crank calls
You think I'm backing down you must be out of your dang skulls
I'm almost famous

You dream of trading places
I have been changing faces
You can not fill these shoes
There is too much to lose

Wake up behind these trenches
You run around defenseless
There is too much to lose
You cannot fill these shoes

I just want to be famous
But be careful what you wish for

I'm back for revenge
I lost a battle that ain't happening again
I'm at your throat like strep
I step, strapped with a pen

Metaphors wrote on my hand
Someone distorted my mint
Read some I wrote on a napkin
I do what I have to, to win

Pull at it all stops, any who touch a mic prior's
Not even Austin Powers, how the fuck are they Mike Meyers
And tell that psycho to pass the torch
To the whacko before I take a shit in his Jack-O-Lantern
And smash it on his porch, now get off my dick

Dick's too short a word for my dick
Get off my antidisestablishmentarianism, you prick
You call me the champ, call me the space shuttle destroyer
I just blew up the Challenger, matter fact I need a lawyer
I just laced my gloves with enough plaster to make a cast
Beat his ass naked and peed in his corner like Verne Troyer

You're the Eminem backwards, you're mini-me
See he's in a whole nother weight class
He smokes your BB's you beat back bullets
You're full of it; you were dissing his CD's
Left at Infinite, now he's back like someone pissed in his wheaties

No peace treaties, he's turned into a beast
His new Slim Shady EP's
Got the attention of the mighty D. R. E
He's almost famous

You dream of trading places
I have been changing faces
You can not fill these shoes
There is too much to lose

Wake up behind these trenches
You run around defenseless
There is too much to lose
You cannot fill these shoes

I just want to be famous
But be careful what you wish for

Now there he goes in Dre's studio, cuppin' his balls
Screaming the wood off the panel
And cussing the paint off the walls
Spewing his hate to these haters, showing no love for these brawds
He ain't given them shit, he says he'll pinch a penny so hard

He'll leave a bruise on the bronze so dark you can see the mark
With the scars, till Abraham Lincoln is screaming out ah
These metaphors and similes ain't similar to them, not at all
If they don't like it, they can all get fucked instead of sucking him off

They can go get a belt or a neck tie,
To hang themselves by
Like David Carradine
They can go fuck themselves and just die

And eat shit while they at it
He's fucking had it, he's mad at the whole world
So go to hell and build a snowman girl
The bullies become bullied, the pussies get pushed
Then they better pull me, take me back to 9th grade to school me
'Cause I ain't looking back, only forward, this whole spot blowing
Who coulda known he'd grow to be a poet and not know it

And while I'm being poetic let me get a stoic and raise the bar
Higher than my opinion of these winners and lords
So bare witness to some biblical shit
As a cold wind blowing this world ain't gonna know what hit it
He did it, he made it, he's finally famous

Songwriters
DANIEL TANNENBAUM, ELIZABETH RODRIGUES, PRANAM INJETI, ERIC ALBERT GEORGE ALCOCK, KHALIL ABDUL-RAHMAN, MARSHALL BIII(EMINEM) MATHERS

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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