Intro — Eminem

Yeah...

September seventh. Las Vegas.

Streetlights still flashin' on the strip.

But the party's over, homie.

This for the Black Jesus.

Makaveli.

Verse 1 — Eminem

I was sittin' in the studio, The Chronic on the deck,

When the pager started buzzin', feelin' shock up in my neck.

One-seven-four, the number, and the message read a name,

Suge was screamin' on the phone, but the screamin' sounded lame.

'Cause the ambulance was silent, and the sirens never came,

Just a flicker on the screen, then the world went up in flames.

They say a bullet's just a seed, but the harvest is the pain,

And the rain in California never washes out the stain.

You was spittin' 'Brenda's Got a Baby' while the cradle was on fire,

Makin' records 'bout the truth while the whole damn world conspired.

You predicted your own exit, seven days, the prophecy,