More songs by Eminem
Description
Producer: Eminem
Co Producer, Composer Lyricist: Jeff Bass
Mixing Engineer, Recording Engineer, Composer Lyricist: Steve King
Recording Second Engineer: Mike Strange
Recording Second Engineer: Urban Kris
Drumprogrammer: DJ Head
Background Vocalist: Dina Rae
Composer Lyricist: Marshall Mathers
Composer Lyricist: Luis Resto
Lyrics and translation
Original
America!
We love you.
How many people are proud to be citizens of this beautiful country of ours? The stripes and the stars for the rights that men have died for to protect.
The women and men who have broke their necks for the freedom of speech the United -States government has sworn to uphold.
-I want everybody to listen to the words of -this song. -Or so we're told.
I never would've dreamed in a million years I'd see so many motherfuckin' people who feel like me, who share the same views and the same exact beliefs.
It's like a fuckin' army marchin' in back of me.
So many lives I touch, so much anger aimed in no particular direction, just sprays and sprays straight through your radio waves.
It plays and plays 'til it stays stuck in your head for days and days.
Who would've thought standin' in this mirror bleachin' my hair with some peroxide, reachin' for a T-shirt to wear that I would catapult to the forefront of rap like this?
How could I predict my words would have an impact like this?
I must've struck a chord with somebody up in the office 'cause Congress keeps tellin' me I ain't causin' nothin' but problems, and now they sayin' I'm in trouble with the government.
I'm lovin' it. I shoveled shit all my life, and now I'm dumpin' it on White America.
I could be one of your kids. White America. Little Eric looks just like this. White America.
Erica loves my shit. I go to TRL, look how many hugs I get. White America.
I could be one of your kids. White America. Little Eric looks just like this. White
America. Erica loves my shit. I go to TRL, look how many hugs I get.
Look at these eyes, baby blue, baby, just like yourself.
If they were brown, Shady lose, Shady sits on the shelf.
But Shady's cute, Shady's new, Shady's dimples would help make ladies swoon, baby. Ooh, baby, look at myself. Let's do the math.
If I was black, I would've sold half.
I ain't have to graduate from Lincoln High School to know that. But I can rap, so fuck school, I'm too cool to go back.
Give me the mic, show me where the fuckin' studio's at. When I was underground, no one gave a fuck
I was white.
No labels wanted to sign me, almost gave up, I was like, "Fuck it," until I met Dre, the only one who looked past, gave me a chance, and I lit a fire up under his ass. Helped him get back to the top.
Every fan black that I got was probably his in exchange for every white fan that he's got.
Like, "Damn, we just swapped. " Sittin' back lookin' at shit, wow.
I'm like, "My skin is it startin' to work to my benefit now? " It's White America. I could be one of your kids.
White America. Little Eric looks just like this. White America. Erica loves my shit.
I go to TRL, look how many hugs I get. White America.
I could be one of your kids. White America. Little Eric looks just like this. White America.
Erica loves my shit. I go to TRL, look how many hugs I get.
See, the problem is I speak to suburban kids who otherwise would've never knew these words exist, whose moms probably would've never gave two squirts of piss 'til I created so much motherfuckin' turbulence.
Straight out the tube right into your livin' rooms I came, and kids flipped when they knew I was produced by Dre.
That's all it took, and they were instantly hooked right in, and they connected with me too because I look like them.
That's why they put my lyrics up under this microscope, searchin' with a fine-tooth comb.
It's like this rope waitin' to choke, tightenin' around my throat, watchin' me while I write this like I don't like this, no.
All I hear is, "Lyrics, lyrics, constant controversy.
Sponsors workin' 'round the clock to try to stop my concerts early.
" Surely, hip-hop is never a problem in Harlem, only in Boston. After it bothered your fathers, the garden's startin' to blossom.
So now I'm catchin' the flak from these activists when they raggin', actin' like
I'm the first rapper to smack a bitch or say faggot.
Shit, just look at me like I'm your closest pal, the poster child, the motherfuckin' spokesman now for White
America. I could be one of your kids. White America.
Little Eric looks just like this. White America. Erica loves my shit. I go to TRL, look how many hugs I get.
White America. I could be one of your kids. White America.
Little Eric looks just like this. White America. Erica loves my shit. I go to TRL, look how many hugs
I get.
So to the parents of America, I am the damager aimed at little Erica to attack her character, the ringleader of this circus of worthless pawns sent to lead the march right up to the steps of Congress and piss on the lawns of the
White House, to burn old Al and replace him with a parental advisory sticker, to spit liquor in the face of this democracy of hypocrisy. Fuck you, Ms. Cheney.
Fuck you, Tipper Gore.
Fuck you with the freedoms of speech this divided state of embarrassment will allow me to have. Fuck you.
I'm just playin', America. You know I love you.