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作曲 : Mike Elizondo/A. Young/D. Parker/Marshall Mathers/M. Batson |
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"It fits, perfect" |
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Better watch out, sucka, now I got ya where I want ya |
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Onslaught, coming and I'm packing in my lunch up |
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Bunch of, missile launchers and a bunch of contra- |
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-band, van full of ganja, now come on jump |
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Man stop, moshing Marshall, oh my god ya |
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Doing the cha-cha and the cucaracha with a quadra- |
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-plegic, boogieing down to Frank Sinatra |
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Lindsay to the Lohan naked while you let me watch ya |
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Who'da knew the Buddha do to me what it's done |
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Such cynicism when this isn't in my system |
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Blunt hypnotism, lift the spliff up to my lips son |
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So much on my hands I got to give my kids a fist bump |
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Christo-pher Reeves swimming in my swim trunks |
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"Mister, help me" is what he said to me and then sunk |
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Women skinning and then cutting them up in chunks |
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In comes the woman with cocoa butter skin once |
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Once again they call me Buffalo Bill |
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Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill |
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Skin 'em up, hem 'em, sew 'em up in those kilts |
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Up in those kilts, uppa-up in those kilts |
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Man you don't want to go up in those hills |
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Up in those hills, uppa-up in those hills |
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You better beware, stay clear of Buffalo Bill |
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Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill |
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Always, you can see him lurking in the hallways |
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Carcasses of Caucasian females in his crawl space |
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How the hell did he fit 'em all into such a small place |
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Hide 'em in the wall, well how long will the drywall take? |
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Well **** it then, I got nothing but time, I'll wait |
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Until it dries for the moment I guess you're all safe |
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After I sand it and buff it, I guess that I'll paint |
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My chainsaw's out of gas, my regular saw ain't |
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Now here I come again, damn stomach rumbling |
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You can even hear the evil spirits coming from within |
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Someone's in, the back of my damn house rummaging |
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It's a girl, she looks pretty thin, but I want to skin |
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Been, on the hunt again; when, will it ever end? |
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Evelyn, why you tryna fight? You will never win |
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Severing, legs, arms, damn there goes another limb |
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Pull the lever then, trapdoor, death is evident |
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Once again they call me Buffalo Bill |
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Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill |
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Skin 'em up, hem 'em, sew 'em up in those kilts |
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Up in those kilts, uppa-up in those kilts |
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Man you don't want to go up in those hills |
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Up in those hills, uppa-up in those hills |
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You better beware, stay clear of Buffalo Bill |
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Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill |
| [02:33.610][Verse 3: Eminem] |
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Now what you know about Buffalo Bill? Nothing, so chill |
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****ing whore, you better ****ing hold still |
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Make sure none of that lotion in the bucket don't spill |
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Cut 'em, gut 'em and just keep to stuffing those girls |
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Man I think she had enough of those pills |
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Sedate her then I'll wait, I'll come back later just to clutch on those steel |
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Blades, baby when I cut ya don't squeal |
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I hate the loud noises, I ****ing told you! |
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I keep hearing voices like wouldn't ya like to go and get your butcher knife |
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And push it right through her while you put ya shish-kabob skewers |
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Into her, barbecue her or would you do to her |
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What you usually do to a girl who's skin's newer? |
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"In a world of sin you are, this is turning into a |
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Torment tournament of sorts, Christmas ornament you are!" |
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I'll be sure to Ginsu ya, 'til there's no more skin to ya, boo-yah |
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Who ya think you're ****ing with, duck because here he comes again |
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Once again they call me Buffalo Bill |
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Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill |
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Skin 'em up, hem 'em, sew 'em up in those kilts |
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Up in those kilts, uppa-up in those kilts |
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Man you don't want to go up in those hills |
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Up in those hills, uppa-up in those hills |
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You better beware, stay clear of Buffalo Bill |
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Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill |
