Song of the Day #3,274: ‘Rap God’ – Eminem vs. Bob Dylan

Here’s an interesting Montauk Madness Round Two matchup, a battle between two provacateurs from very different generations. Eminem isn’t exactly the Bob Dylan of his day, but he certainly stirred up as much controversy and conversation. Can he stir up enough votes to topple a giant?

Dylan got here by defeating my beloved Miranda Lambert in Round One. Lambert managed to pick up 22% of the vote (and she didn’t get mine), hinting at a potential crack in Dylan’s armor. Eminem had an even tougher battle, besting Dave Matthews Band 60% to 40% after some last-minute votes broke a late tie.

As much as I respect Eminem’s talent, he’s no match for Dylan. I suspect Marshall Mathers will fall to Robert Zimmerman.

[Intro sample & Eminem]
“Look, I was gonna go easy on you not to hurt your feelings.”
“But I’m only going to get this one chance.”
“Something’s wrong, I can feel it.”
Six minutes. Six Minutes. Six minutes, Slim Shady, you’re on!
“Just a feeling I’ve got. Like something is about to happen, but I don’t know what. If that means what I think it means, we’re in trouble, big trouble; and if he is as bananas as you say, I’m not taking any chances.”
“You are just what the doc ordered.”

[Hook 1]
I’m beginning to feel like a Rap God, Rap God
All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod
Now, who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box?
They said I rap like a robot, so call me Rap-bot

[Verse 1]
But for me to rap like a computer, it must be in my genes
I got a laptop in my back pocket
My pen’ll go off when I half-cock it
Got a fat knot from that rap profit
Made a livin’ and a killin’ off it
Ever since Bill Clinton was still in office
With Monica Lewinsky feelin’ on his, nutsack
I’m an MC still as honest
But as rude and as indecent as all hell
Syllables, skill-a-holic (kill ’em all with)
This flippity dippity-hippity hip-hop
You don’t really wanna get into a pissin’ match
With this rappity-rap, packin’ a MAC in the back of the Ac’
Backpack rap crap, yap-yap, yackety-yack
And at the exact same time I attempt these lyrical acrobat stunts while I’m practicin’ that
I’ll still be able to break a motherfuckin’ table
Over the back of a couple of faggots, and crack it in half
Only realized it was ironic, I was signed to Aftermath after the fact
How could I not blow? All I do is drop F-bombs
Feel my wrath of attack
Rappers are havin’ a rough time period, here’s a maxi pad
It’s actually disastrously bad for the wack
While I’m masterfully constructing this master piece

[Hook 2]
I’m beginning to feel like a Rap God, Rap God
All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod
Now, who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box?
Let me show you maintaining this shit ain’t that hard, that hard
Everybody want the key and the secret
To rap immortality like I have got

[Verse 2]
Well, to be truthful the blueprint’s
Simply rage and youthful exuberance
Everybody loves to root for a nuisance
Hit the Earth like an asteroid
Did nothing but shoot for the Moon since (Pew!)
MCs get taken to school with this music
‘Cause I use it as a vehicle to “bust a rhyme”
Now I lead a new school full of students
Me? I’m a product of Rakim
Lakim Shabazz, 2Pac, N.W.A, Cube, hey, Doc, Ren
Yella, Eazy, thank you, they got Slim
Inspired enough to one day grow up, blow up and be in a position
To meet Run–D.M.C. and induct them
Into the mothafuckin’ Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame
Even though I’ll walk in the church and burst in a ball of flames
Only Hall of Fame I’ll be inducted in is the alcohol of fame
On the wall of (shame)
You fags think it’s all a game, ’til I walk a flock of flames
Off a plank and, tell me what in the fuck are you thinkin’?
Little gay-looking boy
So gay I can barely say it with a straight face, looking boy
You’re witnessing a massacre
Like you’re watching a church gathering take place, looking boy
“Oy vey, that boy’s gay!”, that’s all they say, looking boy
You get a thumbs up, pat on the back
And a “way to go” from your label every day, looking boy
Hey, looking boy! What you say, looking boy?
I get a “hell yeah” from Dre, looking boy
I’ma work for everything I have, never ask nobody for shit
Get outta my face, looking boy!
Basically, boy, you’re never gonna be capable
Of keeping up with the same pace, looking boy, ’cause—

[Hook 3]
I’m beginning to feel like a Rap God, Rap God
All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod
The way I’m racing around the track, call me NASCAR, NASCAR
Dale Earnhardt of the trailer park, the White Trash God
Kneel before General Zod
This planet’s Krypton – no, Asgard, Asgard

[Verse 3]
So you be Thor and I’ll be Odin
You rodent, I’m omnipotent
Let off, then I’m reloadin’
Immediately with these bombs I’m totin’
And I should not be woken
I’m the walking dead, but I’m just a talking head, a zombie floatin’
But I got your mom deep-throatin’
I’m out my Ramen Noodle
We have nothin’ in common, poodle
I’m a Doberman, pinch yourself in the arm and pay homage, pupil
It’s me, my honesty’s brutal
But it’s honestly futile if I don’t utilize what I do though
For good at least once in a while
So I wanna make sure, somewhere in this chicken scratch I scribble and doodle enough rhymes
To maybe try to help get some people through tough times
But I gotta keep a few punchlines
Just in case, ’cause even you unsigned
Rappers are hungry looking at me like it’s lunchtime
I know there was a time where once I
Was king of the underground
But I still rap like I’m on my Pharoahe Monch grind
So I crunch rhymes, but sometimes when you combine
Appeal with the skin color of mine
You get too big and here they come tryin’
To censor you, like that one line
I said on “I’m Back” from The Mathers LP 1 when I
Tried to say I’ll take seven kids from Columbine
Put ’em all in a line, add an AK-47, a revolver and a 9
See if I get away with it now that I ain’t as big as I was, but I’m
Morphin’ into an immortal, comin’ through the portal
You’re stuck in a time warp from 2004, though
And I don’t know what the fuck that you rhyme for
You’re pointless as Rapunzel with fuckin’ cornrows
You write normal? Fuck being normal!
And I just bought a new raygun from the future
Just to come and shoot ya, like when Fabolous made Ray J mad
‘Cause Fab said he looked like a fag at Mayweather’s pad
Singin’ to a man while they played piano
Man, oh man, that was a 24/7 special on the cable channel
So Ray J went straight to the radio station
The very next day, “Hey Fab, I’ma kill you!”
Lyrics comin’ at you at supersonic speed (J.J. Fad)
Uh, summa-lumma, dooma-lumma, you assumin’ I’m a human
What I gotta do to get it through to you? I’m superhuman
Innovative and I’m made of rubber, so that anything you say is ricocheting off of me and it’ll glue to you and
I’m devastating, more than ever demonstrating
How to give a motherfuckin’ audience a feeling like it’s levitating
Never fading, and I know the haters are forever waiting
For the day that they can say I fell off, they’ll be celebrating
‘Cause I know the way to get ’em motivated
I make elevating music, you make elevator music
“Oh, he’s too mainstream.”
Well, that’s what they do when they get jealous, they confuse it
“It’s not hip-hop, it’s pop,” because I found a hella way to fuse it
With rock, shock rap with Doc
Throw on “Lose Yourself” and make ’em lose it
“I don’t know how to make songs like that
I don’t know what words to use.”
Let me know when it occurs to you
While I’m rippin’ any one of these verses that versus you
It’s curtains, I’m inadvertently hurtin’ you
How many verses I gotta murder to
Prove that if you were half as nice
Your songs you could sacrifice virgins to?
Ungh, school flunky, pill junkie
But look at the accolades these skills brung me
Full of myself, but still hungry
I bully myself ’cause I make me do what I put my mind to
And I’m a million leagues above you
Ill when I speak in tongues, but it’s still tongue-in-cheek, fuck you!
I’m drunk – so Satan, take the fuckin’ wheel!
I’m asleep in the front seat
Bumpin’ Heavy D and the Boyz, still “Chunky but Funky”
But in my head there’s something I can feel tugging and struggling
Angels fight with devils, and here’s what they want from me
They’re asking me to eliminate some of the women hate
But if you take into consideration the bitter hatred
I have, then you may be a little patient
And more sympathetic to the situation
And understand the discrimination
But fuck it, life’s handin’ you lemons, make lemonade then!
But if I can’t batter the women
How the fuck am I supposed to bake them a cake then?
Don’t mistake him for Satan; it’s a fatal mistake
If you think I need to be overseas and take a vacation
To trip a broad, and make her fall on her face and
Don’t be a retard; be a king? Think not
Why be a king when you can be a god?

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6 thoughts on “Song of the Day #3,274: ‘Rap God’ – Eminem vs. Bob Dylan

  1. Rob says:

    No contest, in my humble opinion. Dylan gets my vote for a truly remarkable canon of work. He would get my vote on the strength of “Like A Rolling Stone” alone. He is an American Treasure.

  2. Dana says:

    This is a difficult one for me, not made any easier by the song you chose, which shows that Eminem is still the best at his craft. Still, I am going to go with legendary Dylan without whom artists like Eminem might not even exist. Still, I’ll be sorry to see you go, Mr. Rap God.

  3. The Cool Guy (Daniel) says:

    BTW: I believe that Eminem was against Dave Matthews Band not John Mayer. I think he would’ve/should’ve won in a landslide against John Mayer

  4. The Cool Guy (Daniel) says:

    This is a difficult decision for me here. The competition is for the best artist. However, most of the artist in competition wouldn’t even be here without Bob Dylan. If someone has derived their musical style from Bob Dylan, but then improved upon it shouldn’t that person win over him. Dana is right that Eminem might not exist without Bob Dylan, but that is a rational I’m not going to use in this decision.

    I’m gonna get a lot of flak for this decision but I’m going to go with Eminem on this one. Eminem’s rapping prowess, music production, and where he really shines in his lyrical excellence prove him a perfect candidate for best artist. Bob Dylan is a truly amazing lyricist which is an uncontested fact. However, he’s not the best guitarist and he’s definitely not the best singer. Even as I write this I know the amount of hot water I’m about to get into, but for personal preference, and the rules I’m following in order to make these choices, I have to go with Eminem.

  5. Peg says:

    Again there are no words I am going with the Nobel Prize winner 😊

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