Story Behind The Song

While promoting Eminem for King of the US, I started a News Rap site (yes, I *rap* news commentary). The lyrics to this song was inspired by a story that suggested Eminem "bridged the gap" between music styles (and races, perhaps).

Song Description

Drinking song (simply repeat the same song all night long at your next party): 1. Everyone drinks at GUNK GUNK GUNK. 2. Rapping the lyrics is optional but contagious. 3. If someone attempts the lyrics and messes up, yell GUNK GUNK GUNK... only the person who screwed up has to drink. 4. Penalty for drinking when someone yells GUNK GUNK GUNK... you just drank. Your penalty. 5. Certain kinds of lewd behavior are suggested by the song and there is no penalty for being influenced to act out the song lyrics. 6. If the party ends without everyone singing, dancing, and having a good time... *I* drink.

Lyrics

Not really. That's silly. Rap is about war. Same crap as before. Niggas hate crackers even more, white rappers abhorred. There's still a ghetto but metro is retro. Hip hop's got a whole new crop of youths to shop for top name crap at pit-stop shops in insane malls where stalls of burger sprawl them same halls and femfatals and their thin gal pals still grin fake smiles then walk for miles to send out calls to them dadblame guys... bums surprised when caught in their shameful crummy lies. More appliances and less compliances. We're dumb (phew!) the young too. Getting screwed and screwing more. More whores. More stores. More poor. Getting so I don't go nowhere nomore. No more. I think the world is still about to kill itself. For real. Its self-fulfilling selfish tendencies are shelving indices in stock appendices. Sloppy industry's dumping slop and dropping its disease in the seas. It's comming to a head. More obstacles ahead. Our testicles are dead vestibules of dread. A veneer of lacquer, liquor, and liqueur. Everyone's Shakur in an Eminem wrapper, that's true. For sure, and no cure. What's the lure? The train's derailed and everything's failed. Black's out of whack with smack and crack and the Whiteys are a fuck-in' instead of reading Huck Finn. We LISTEN to Eminem instead of suckin' em (like he wants, I assay-- the brunt of my essay, lets say). Let's just hum Eminem 'n on and on. Him and him adhominem. And hymn, and om, and hmmm, and ummm. Again and again. (and a gunk gunk gunk). Shit, try him for ten times ten in ten... till the tie-um chimes ten p.m. & a.m. And if you see Em, say I'll do him (And do him and do him... and I do, and I do... and dum dum de dum dum dummm). You too, men? True blue, M. And ahhh men. (Amen, Emil? He's an animal at the minimal, a mental whore. Need a mental ward for this man-a-war to metamorph). And that's the story of Rap's glory in a nut shell. We're all going to hell. But we'll go in ecstasy and not in agony and the rest of history will be the best of of our misery as we commiserate, viscerate, get pissed and hate... then kiss and make up when we wake up with egg cups in our faces... take it on the cuff (of our sleeve, yuck), and leave (You up?). Hey, Jeeves... another set of sheets... take off next week... you got something on your cheek... let's see, any more free baze... give me a taze... whose plaze is this anywayzzz... an oasis... away sis. You stay ('cause I say). Say yes: Say it. You may. (... might, have the wish I wish tonight). Ta! Ra! Ra......... BOOM (dee ay)! They took my pants away. They took my underwear and left me standing there.