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Datos de Eminem Nombre Verdadero: Marshall Bruce Mathers IIINombre Artístico: EminemDonde Nació: Misuri, Estados UnidosFecha de Nacimiento: 17 de octubre de 1972Edad: 51Nacionalidad: EstadounidenseGénero(s): Hip hop, rapActividad: 1995 – ActualidadInstrumentos: Voz, teclados, sampler, bateríaOcupación: Rapero, cantautor, productor discográfico, productor ejecutivo, escritor, actorDisquera(s): Interscope, Aftermath, Shady, Goliath Artistss, Web EntertainmentOtros Nombres: Slim ShadyCónyuge/Pareja: Kimberly Scott (matr. 1999; div. 2001); Kimberly Scott (matr. 2006; div. 2006)Hijos: 3Página Oficial: www.eminem.comRedes Sociales:Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube .'
'. ¿Quién es Eminem? Eminem (/ ɛmɪˈnɛm /; a menudo estilizado como EMINƎM), cuyo nombre verdadero es Marshall Bruce Mathers III, es un rapero, compositor y productor de discos estadounidense que nació el 17 de octubre de 1972 en St. Joseph, Missouri, Estados Unidos de Norte América. Es acreditado con la popularización del hip hop en América Central, el éxito global de Eminem y sus aclamadas obras son ampliamente consideradas por haber roto las barreras raciales para la aceptación de raperos blancos en la música popular. Si bien gran parte de su trabajo transgresor a principios de la década de 2000 lo convirtió en una gran controversia, llegó a ser una representación de la angustia popular y la clase baja estadounidense. Ha sido influyente para muchos artistas de varios géneros. Niñez, Juventud y Vida Familiar Eminem, poco después de su nacimiento, su padre abandonó a su familia. Hasta los doce años Mathers y su madre se trasladaron en varias ciudades y pueblos de Misuri incluyendo St. Joseph, Savannah y Kansas City antes de ir
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INICIOEminemLord Above Feat Fat Joe Y Mary J Blige

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  • Lord Above Feat Fat Joe Y Mary J Blige - Eminem 1 14:41

Lord Above Feat Fat Joe Y Mary J Blige Lyrics | Eminem


Yeah
We cop new timepieces when these fools deny Jesus
Hate is a sin dog, be real
I got my hand on the pump
You on Twitter in your feels
Throwin' subs, arguin’ with chick
I pray for these niggas, same hands that I hustle with
Passin' the offering plates, I'm the preacher in foreign whips
Sermons and politics, miracles come with each and every flip
That dinero from zero, so heaven-sent
Immaculate, blessings with Mary, I reminisce
On days we was broke, all we had was some common sense
Last night, I had a nightmare, I was at the stove
I woke up in Paris, cookin’ up for hoes
That's why I thank the Lord for givin' me this life
And even when I'm gone, the music keepin' us alive
Yeah, it's called forever-ever
Ever-ever, ever-ever, family ties

Oh, oh
Yeah, yeah, oh
I'm so grateful, all I need is love
To the Lord above

G6 globals, who'da thunk it, from the projects
Eight balls, some poppy, went and dunked it in the Pyrex
Mischeaved his thoughts before seein’ the sauce
Told Montana in the G, chicky poo in the Porsche
The Frank Sinatra of the Spanish mobsters
We the Jimmy’s Cafe, ain't no need for operas
Had the fiends sing, Hallelujah, fuck the prosecutor
Gave my nigga fifty years, and he was not the shooter
Dig deep in your mind, no pressure, no diamonds
So we live a life, drop a hundred at the ferry, yeah
My chick’s in San Fran, but stay out my Bay Area
You salute the cross, or you rebuke the cross
Either way you meet the Lord when you get moved across
Death knockin' at your door got you squeezin' handle
And you ain't seen God ’till you starin down a barrel

Oh, oh
Yeah, yeah, oh
I'm so grateful, all I need is love
To the Lord above

I'm sittin' here, reminiscin', think I just got a lightbulb
Somethin' I'd like to mention, this is just on a side note
Word to the Terror Squad, Joe, this is all puns aside though
I know me and Mariah didn't end on a high note
But that other dude's whipped, that pussy got him neutered
Tried to tell him this chick's a nut job before he got his jewels clipped
Almost got my caboose kicked, fool, quit, you not gon' do shit
I let her chop my balls off, too fore' I lost to you, Nick
I should quit watchin' news clips, yeah
My balls are too big, I should be talkin' pool
'Cause I got scratches on my pocket, fall when I'm takin' shots at you
Fuck it, lemme chalk the cue stick
I'm over the top, like pool, whip
And I promise you the day I fall off or lose it
I will stop and cut off the music
Opportunist, wanna kill shit every chance that I got to do this
Stackin' my guap, savage, I'm not
To fool with, like a handgun, you could say I'm like a Gat when it's cocked
I keep it a (buck, buck) You're ass'll get shot
If rap was an actual Glock, you'd act like you strapped when you're not
Only cap that you pop is the top on the can of your pop
You the man 'till I pop your top
You ain't Jack in a Box
And I ain't talkin' a hamburger spot
Cracker with a barrel, armed to the teeth, Anderson. Paak
Rest in peace to Afeni and her son Pac
You sent me that plaque with his rhyme sheet, I haven't forgot
Blow 30 million in a month, call it Brewster's Millions
Just hope I don't lose the feelin', from soldier to civilian
Got everything I need but I don't even see myself in the future chillin'
Only thing I don't have in the booth's a ceiling, just call me the roofless villain
They telling' me sky's the limit, so I got my head in the clouds
Unicorn in human form, saw a gift horse, look him dead in the mouth
(And Lord) And Lord, good lookin' out, for sendin' me Edna and Charles
Whenever mom kicked me out of the house
They were the bomb, then you sent me L-L
All the times that I hated myself, since eleven or twelve
Only way that I knew how to better myself is when I bet against everyone else
So Joe hit the head on the nail
You ain't seen God 'till you starin down a barrel
I was gun shy, but now like a snail
The slug's comin' out of its shell

Oh, there's no hate in this world
That can make me give up
That can keep me stuck
Lord, I thank you (Lord, I thank you)
I thank you, I'm so grateful, so thankful, so thankful (so thankful)
Oh, oh, oh, oh, mm
I thank the Lord above
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, woo

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