Letra de Fuel - Eminem

(Feat. JID)

Smokin' trees, I'm ridin' 'round

Come to my side of town

Lately, it's been goin', goin', goin', goin', goin' down (Look, uh, look)

All of my niggas gon' ride with it

In the pocket, the rocket like Kellen Mond

Mama told me the power was in the tongue

But it probably ain't powerful as a gun

All of you little cowards get devoured, I'm givin' out flowers to anyone

I ain't been out the house in a minute 'cause I ain't wit' it if the money is miniature

I been mindin' my business, I'm business-minded

I been spendin' some time with the minister

'Cause them niggas spinnin' shit and still sinnin' in the City of God and it's sinister

Try to pray and repent in a synagogue or a mosque, a temple, a church

Them brown skin's sentiment niggas hurtin'

And murder's a common courtesy, for certainly

R.I.P. be on the shirt, search, lurk, murk, squirt, dirt, first (Forty-eight)

My nigga doin' four plus eight without a court date

Talked the other day, he say he doin' okay

He good, he gainin' weight, then got a sharp shank

He made, he say they play, they gotta partake

Homie got a heart full of hate and a face full of war paint

Eyes all red, full of rage and it's hard to escape from a dark place

East side niggas from the A, niggas all ages

Tryna sell a pound of the dog cage

All the OGs 'round town was our age

Danger, sex, and drugs, X and R-rated

Danger, sex, and drugs, shit be outrageous

But don't get this shit fucked up, my boy

Ya lucked up once, then ya doubled up

I dribble and pass it to the cup and triple-double it

Get to the basket, get the cash and cuddle up

Cover up, bundle up, batter up (Batter up)

Um, talk a lot of smack and I could back it up

Shawty wanna shag, wanna shack it up

I can put her pussy on the platter like a platypus

Nappy-head nigga, hair natted up

I said, "Barbara," a nigga tatted up

I won't argue, nigga mad as fuck

'Cause they ain't compatible, I'm finna catapult

But niggas know it's goin'

(Down, down, down, down, do-do-do-do—)

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, do-do-do-do—)

That scares the fuck out of you

For a couple decades (Brrt)

Been lettin' this TEC spray (Brrt)

From that day that I met Dre (Brrt)

So you liable to catch strays (Brrt)

From the second you press play (What?)

I suggest they (What?)

Do not test like an essay (Why?)

'Cause like where my homies out west stay (Yeah)

We can just say (What?)

I'm like an R-A-P-E-R (Yeah)

Got so many eses (Eses), S-As (Huh)

Wait, he didn't just spell the word "rapper" and leave out a P, did he? (Yep)

R.I.P., rest in peace, Biggie

And Pac, both of y'all should be living (Yep)

But I ain't tryna beef with him (Nope)

'Cause he might put a hit on me like, "Keefe D, get 'em"

And that's the only way you're gonna be killing me (Nah)

Ain't gonna be on no beat, silly (Yeah)

I beat the beat silly, on the grind like teeth gritting

Call me "obesity" (Why?)

You think it's over? Wait, it's just beginning

Diss me and it ain't gonna be pretty (Nah)

Used to be yea tall, then I grew a little each day 'til I became God

Like James Todd, now your arms are too short to BK brawl

Indeed, they small like DJ Paul (Woo)

My new Benz better than your truck by far

Bitch, suck my balls

You either smoke crack or you're playin' stickball in the street

'Cause you must be on base if you thinkin' you could touch my car (Yeah)

But if the whole world was out to get you (What?)

It'd turn you to a powder keg too

Kyle Rittenhouse, spittin' rounds, the TEC shoots like (Look out, brrt)

And that ain't no sound effect (Woo)

Neither was that, SIG Sauer lets loose

I don't condone gun violence at schools (Nah)

But I can't get these voices out my head (Hey, Marshall, kill, kill, kill)

They're putting words in my mouth like alphabet soup

Got the most content on the continent

And constant compliments give me confidence (I'm a)

To cross of common sense and incompetence (Uh)

I'm cognizant that conflict's a consequence (What?)

Of accomplishments and comp is no competish

I've conquered and conked 'em into unconsciousness

No conscience, I conjure this King Kong or just

Call me "Kamikaze," I'm concoctin' this (Woo, my bad)

But nobody's sixteens are touchin' these

My fuckin' index fingers fuckin' the nina

Clutchin' the 9 millimeter, tuckin' the heat

Got the toaster like an English muffin

No, I mean "toast to" like you drink to somethin'

But it's in a holster, I proceed to bustin'

Fuck around and get popped like Halyna Hutchins

Like I'm Alec Baldwin, what I mean is buckin' you down

Coup de grâce then, right between the fuckin' eyes

Shoot 'em all in, if you think you're fuckin' with me

You're gonna suffer the fuckin' repercussions

The reaper's comin', a heathen, I'm Ethan Crumbley

I keep replenishing fuel while the beat I'm punishing

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, do-do-do-do—)

That scares the fuck out of you

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