You don't know how sick you make me,
You make me fuckin' sick to my stomach,
Every time I think of you I puke.
You must just not know (uououououououoh),
You may not think you do but you do,
Every time I think of you I puke {1st verse starts when Em sings "puke" again}
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little poem,
But off of the dome would probably be a little more,
More suitable for this type of song (woah).
I got a million reasons off the top of my head that I can think of,
Sixteen bars just ain't enough to put some ink to,
So fuck it, I'm start right here, I'll just be briefer,
'bout to rattle off some other reasons.
I knew I shouldn't go and get another tattoo,
Of you on my arm, but what do I go and do?
I go and get another one, now I got two, oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo.
Now I'm sittin here, with your name on my skin,
I can't believe I went and did that stupid shit again,
My next girlfriend, now her name's gotta be Kim, shii-ii-ii-ii-ii-iit.
If you only knew how much I hated you,
For every-mother fuckin'-thing you ever put us through,
Then I wouldn't be standin' here cryin'over you
boo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-hoo.
You don't know how sick you make me,
You make me fuckin' sick to my stomach,
Every time I think of you I puke.
You must just not know (uououououououoh),
You may not think you do but you do,
Every time I think of you I puke {1st verse starts when Em sings "puke" again}
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little letter,
But I thought a song would probably be a little better,
Instead of a letter, that you probably just shred up (yeah).
I stumbled on your picture yesterday and it made stop and think of,
How much of a waste it'd be for me to put some ink to,
A stupid piece of paper, I'd rather let you see how,
Much I fuckin' hate you in a freestyle.
You're a fuckin' cokehead slut I hope you fuckin' die,
I hope you get to hell and Satan sticks a needle in your eye,
I hate your fuckin' guts, you fuckin' slut I hope you die, die-ie-ie-ie-ie-ie-ie.
But please don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter or mad,
It's not that I still love you, it's not 'cause I want you back,
It's just that when I think of you it makes me wanna yack ,aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aaK.
But what else can I do, I haven't got a clue,
Now I guess I just move on, I have no choice but to,
But every time I think of you now all I wanna do
Is puu-uu-uu-uu-uu-uuK
You don't know how sick you make me,
You make me fuckin' sick to my stomach,
Every time I think of you I puke.
You must just not know (uououououououoh),
You may not think you do but you do,
Every time I think of you I puke {1st verse starts when Em sings "puke" again}
Fuckin' bitch
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Thom Artway:
Eminem:
Eminem:
Coldplay:
