[Hook 1: Eminem]
I wanna be the best who ever did it
Don't know if that goal is feasible, or it isn't
But if it is thank God, if you're listenin'
Please give me the strength to [bad word] [bad word] You can't blame me for dreaming, I'm a dreamer
And if [bad word] off brash please forgive me
But, that's all I want

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
I just wanna be the illest MC (That's all I want)
The same time being as real as can be
Mayhem, sickness, murder, horror
These are the kind of words that describe my aura
Rap, Ras Kass, [bad word] Redman I am cut from that cloth
Write a rhyme about me, you a dead man
Cool J, I'm Bad video
Learn the whole routine and perform it for my father's friends
While they smoked and drank
Symphony, D.O.C. inspired me to write what
Would eventually put me on airplanes like B.o.Canibus, Wu-Tang, you know our history but hats off
When we rap this Jack Frost we outline the track chalk
Thank God for the one-two cadence
Thank God for the lunchroom tables
I'm trying to be the sickest [bad word]  dead or alive
And if I happen to fall short, it's been one [bad word] of a ride
Chronic 1 and 2, looking up at the sky at the sun
Up until the day the sun is you
You listening to hip-hop, you in Jay's house
Wayne's house, Nas' house
Em's house, Our House

[Hook 2: Skylar Grey]
So [bad word]  to our house
Where no [bad word] back out
You won't [bad word] In here, in here, in here

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
When I was a little boy I wanted to be a rapper
Wanted to be on the radio and snapping pictures after
And so I grabbed my pen and pad and scribbled chitter chatter
It started off whack
But in the words of a ten year old, my [bad word] was getting phatter
I hit the studio at 16, stupid ill
Not knowing how the booth would feel, what's ADAT's and two inch reel
How you ad-lib? What's a punch? I ain't a boxer
But I sure enough learned the ropes, look and Mike you made a monster
Now everyday's a game of Contra, I got 99 men
An infinite amount of rounds inside this mighty fine pen
This is my dream, don't [bad word] with it, I'm telling you
Cause anyone can get dusted as long as production is available
I'm disgusted as a fan, look how niggas sounding, [bad word] Weak head, ya'll suck bad, [bad word] swag and your kicks from South Japan
I'm finna to be the best in this profession
I've been invested all my life, so wipe your feet before you step in
Our house

[Hook 2 & Hook 1]

[Interlude: Joe Budden]
I just wanna be the illest MC
The same time being as real as can be

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
Yo, in my house, the lights out
No utilities in the facilities
Feeling my life's 'bout, to wipe out
These feelings I'm feeling be killing me
I pull the mic out, can't strike out
Cause if winning is really my enemy
I pull a nine out, blow my mind out
Is the end of me really serenity?
Man in my house, it's rap or die
Get a piece of that apple pie
Life is a Pharcyde song, and that [bad word] just passes by
So I, got [bad word]  that way I could clock checks
Get my moms out the projects, with these [bad word] can't digest
And then I stress cause the road is rough
I start feeling like [bad word] s sour
The electricity in my will power, could still power, the twin towers
For ten hours so send cowards
The message from Crooked I
Royce Da 5, Joe Budden, Yaowa

[Verse 4: Eminem]
In our, house we spit like Sig Sauers
The way I feel now I could spit for six hours
Straight, only way to be great, is to dig down, if you can hear this sound in
Side my head sounds like a [bad word] drive-by
That's what the inside of my mind's like
Looking back on, my career even, hindsights, tunnel vision, 5 mics
Never wanted that so bad well I got-ta go mad