Eminem 8 Mile Freestyle Battles Lyrics

First Battle)
(Lickety Split)
Check this out
Check this out

Yo, this guys a choke-artist
Ya
catch a bad one
Ya better off shootin ya-self wit Popa
Doc's handgun
Climbin up this mountain, ya weak
I
leave ya lost witout a paddle, floatin s___'s creek
You ain't Detroit, I'm the D
You tha new kid on
the block, bout to get smacked back to the boone-docks
f___in n___, this crowd ain't ya type
Take some real
advice
And form a group with Vanilla Ice
And what I
tell ya
Ya better use it
This guy's a hillbilly
this ain't Willie Nelson music
Trailer trash
I
choke ya till ya last breath
And have ya lookin foolish
like Cheddar Bob when he shot his-self
Silly Rabbit, I know
why they call you that
Cuz you follow Future, like he got
carrots up his a__crack
And when you act it up, that's
when you got jacked up
And left stupid like Tina Turner
when she got smacked up
I crack ya shoulderblade
You'll get dropped so hard that Elvis will start turnin
in his grave
I don't know why they left you out in the
dark
Ya need to take your white a__ back across 8 Mile to
the trailer park
(Crowd Cheers)

(Rabbit/Eminem)
This guy raps like his parents jerked
him
He sounds like Eric Sermon
The generic version
This whole crowd looks suspicious
It's all dudes in
here
Except for these b____es
So I'm a German
ay?
That's ok, you look like a f___in worm with
braids
These leaders of the Free World rookies
Lookie,
how can 6 d___s be p____es
Talkin bout s___'s creek,
b____ you can be a p___ creek
Wit paddles this deep
Ya
still gonna sink
Your a disgrace
Ya they call me
Rabbit
This is a turtle race
He can't get wit me
spittin this s___
Wickedy Lickety shot
Spicious
spickety split Lickety
So I'ma turn around wit a great
smile
And walk my white a__ back across 8 Mile
(Crowd
cheers)

(2nd Battle)
(Lotto)
We rollin
m____fuckaz
What's goin on baby?
Yo it's
time to get rid of this coward right here once and for all
Sick of this m____fucka
(Rip it Lotto, rip it baby rip
it, yeah) Check this s___ out

Huhhh huhhh
I'll spit a racial slur honkey sue me
This s___ is a
horror flick
But a black guy doesn't die in this
movie
f___in wit Lotto dog you gotta be kiddin
That
makes me believe, you really don't have an interest in
livin
You think these n____s gone feel the s___ you say?
I got a better chance joinin the KKK
On some real s___
though, I like you
That's why I didn't wanna have
to be the one you commit suicide to
f___ Lotto? Call me ya
leader
I feel bad that I gotta murder that dude from Leave
It To Beaver
I used to like that show
Noe you got me
in fightback mode
But oh well if ya gotta go then ya gotta
go
I hate to do this
I would love for this s___ to
last
So I'll take pictures of my rear end so you
won't forget my a__
And alls well that ends ok
So
I'll end this s___
Wit a f___ you, but, have a nice
day
(Crowd cheers)

(Rabbit/Eminem)
Ward
I think you were a little hard on the Beaver
So was Eddie
Haskal
Wally and Ms. Cleaver
This guy keeps screamin,
he's paranoid
Quick, someone get his a__ another
steroid!
Blabbedy bloom blah, blum blabbedy bloom blah
I ain't hear a word you said, hibitit hoopla!
Is
that a tanktop or a new bra?
Look, Snoop Dogg, just got a
f___in b___ job
Did you listen to the last round
meathead?
Pay attention, ya sayin the same s___ that he
said (I'ma f___ you up)
Matta fact dog, here's a
pencil
Go home, write some s___, make it suspenseful
And don't come back until somethin dope hits you
f___ it
You can take the Mic home wich you
Lookin
like a cyclone hit you
Tanktop screamin, "Lotto I
don't fit you"
You see how far them white jokes get
you
Boys like, how Vanilla Ice gone diss you?
My
motto:
f___ Lotto
I get the 7 digits from ya mother
for a dollar tomorrow

(3rd Battle)
(Rabbit/Eminem)
Now everybody from the 3-1-3
Put ya
m____fuckin hands up and follow me
Everybody from the
3-1-3
Put ya m____fuckin hands up
Look look

Now while he stands tough
Notice that this man did not
have his hands up
This Free World's got ya gased up
Now who's afraid of the Big Bad Wolf
1, 2, 3 and to
the 4
1pac, 2pac, 3pac, 4
4pac, 3pac, 2pac's,
1
Your Pac, he's Pac, No Pac's, None
This
guy aint no m____fuckin MC
I know everything he's got
to say against me
I am white
I am a f___in b__
I
do live in the trailer wit my mom
My boy future is an Uncle
Tom
I do got a dumb friend named Cheddar Bob who shoots
himself in his leg with his own gun
I did get jumped
By all 6 of you chumps
And Wink did f___ my girl
I'm still standin here screamin f___ the Free World!
Don't ever try to judge me dude
Cuz you don't
know what the f___ I been through
But I know somethin about
you
You went to Cranbrook, that's a private school
What's the matter dog you embarrassed?
This guys a
gangster? His real name's Clarence
And Clarence lives
at home with both parents
And Clarence parents have a real
good marriage
This guy don't wanna battle, he's
shook
Cuz ain't no such things as Half Way Crooks!
He's scared to death
He's scared to look
At his f___in yearbook
f___ Cranbook
f___ a beat, I
go acapella
f___ a Popa Doc, f___ a clock, f___ a trailer
f___ everybody
f___ yall if you doubt me, I'ma piece
of f___in white trash I say it proudly
And f___ this battle
I don't wanna win, I'm outtie
Here, tell these
people somethin they don't know about me
(Crowd
cheers)

(Papa Doc)
(Hands mic to
Future...nothing comes to mind for Doc to say back at
Rabbit.)