積分
演出藝人
Eminem
聲樂
Jessie Reyez
聲樂
Luis Resto
電子琴
詞曲
Jessie Reyez
詞曲創作
Fred Ball
詞曲創作
Marshall Mathers
詞曲創作
Luis Resto
詞曲創作
L. Griffin Jr
詞曲創作
製作與工程團隊
Eminem
混音師
Fred Ball
製作人
S1
製作人
Brian Gardner
母帶工程師
Joe Strange
錄音師
M. Strange
錄音師
Tony Campana
錄音師
歌詞
[Verse 1]
You're such a nice guy, a nice guy
You're faithful, you don't lie
After the club you go back home, right?
Right? Sike!
[Verse 2]
Suck my dick
You fuckin' suck, man
Suck my dick
You fuckin' suck, man
I hope that your heart get hit by a semi truck
Suck my dick
You fuckin' suck, man
[Verse 3]
I hop in your whip and take a sip, then I gun it
I don't, I don't got much self-control, I hope that you runnin'
I'm bi-polar, with the switch I'm just as quick like you comin'
I don't, I don't got much self-control, I hope that you runnin'
[Verse 4]
I'm not a cheater, but if I'ma be accused, might as well be
You tell me you'll take me back when hell freezes, but females be
Rushin' me outside my telly, temptation overwhelms me
Like my monthly bill from Sprint, they're chargin' me for a selfie
Chargion' me, so I gave my hotel key, uh
I'm just tryna be nice
[Verse 5]
You're such a nice guy, a nice guy
You're faithful, you don't lie
After the club you go back home, right?
Right? Sike!
[Verse 6]
Suck my dick
You fuckin' suck, man
Suck my dick
You fuckin' suck, man
I hope that your heart get hit by a semi truck
Suck my dick
You fuckin' suck, man
[Verse 7]
I'm playin' music while you suffer
Like I'm Carmine Coppola
Got you tied up in the basement while I chill on your sofa
La próxima yo sé que mejor me quedo sola
Estás de buenas que yo ya vendí mi pistola
[Verse 8]
I'm an emotional wreck, weak
Everything over-affects me
When you joke, it upsets me
You say I'm no good at sex
And you think I'm gross and unsexy
I need Scope 'cause my breath stinks
You hope I choke on a Pepsi
Yeah, bitch, you were supposed to correct me
Been textin' you since three, I still get no fucking reply
You say you sleep alone, but yet your mattress is king size
Fuck you goin' in those knee-high boots?
Cut it out, bitch
I doubt that you're goin' to house-sit in that outfit
And those skin-tight Levis
Every word that comes out you mouth's a fucking lie
Oh, it's springtime
Time for you to have a fling like a sling-shot
You say don't come over 'cause you got pink-eye
But I think I got just the thing
Why don't I bring my fucking bat and just swing by?
Written by: Fred Ball, J. Reyez, L. Griffin Jr, Luis Resto, Marshall Mathers
