Текст песни So Far... (Eminem) с переводом

I own a mansion but live in a house

A king-size bed but I sleep on the couch

I’m Mr. Brightside, glass is half-full

But my tank’s half empty, gasket just blew

This always happens

Thirty minutes from home, gotta lay a log cabin

Only option I have’s McDonalds’s bathroom

In a public stall, droppin' a football

So every time someone walks in the john, I get maddened

«Shady, what up?» What? Come on, man, I’m crappin'

And you’re askin' for my goddamn autograph on a napkin?

Oh, that’s odd, I just happened

To run out of tissue, yeah, hand me that

On second thought I’d be glad then

«Thanks, dawg! Name’s Todd, a big fan.»

I wiped my ass with it

Crumbled it up in a wad and threw it back and

Told him: «Todd, you’re the shit,» when’s all of this crap end?

Can’t pump my gas without causing an accident

Pump my gas, cut my grass, I can’t take out the fuckin' trash

Without someone passin' through my sub, harassin'

I’d count my blessings, but I suck at math

I’d rather wallow than bask sufferin' succotash

But the ant-acid, it gives my stomach gas

When I mix my corn with my fuckin' mashed

Potatoes, so what? Ho, kiss my country bumpkin ass!

Missouri Southern roots, what the fuck is upper class?

Call lunch dinner, call dinner supper

Tupperware in the cupboard, plasticware up the ass

Stuck in the past—iPod, what the fuck is that?

B-Boy to the core, mule, I’m a stubborn ass

Maybe that’s why I feel so strange

Got it all, but I still won’t change

Maybe that’s why I can’t leave Detroit

It’s the motivation that keeps me goin'

This is the inspiration I need

I can never turn my back on the city that made me

And (life's been good to me so far)

They call me classless, I heard that, I second and third that

Don’t know what the fuck I’d be doin' if it weren’t rap

Probably be a giant turd sack

But I blew, never turned back

Turned 40 and still sag—teenagers act more fuckin' mature, Jack

Fuck you gonna say to me? I leave on my own terms, asshole

I’m goin' berzerk, my nerves are bad

But I love the perks my work has

I get to meet famous people, look at her dag

Her nylons are ran, her skirt’s snagged

And I heard she drag-races, *burp* swag

Tuck in my Hanes shirt tag

You’re Danica Patrick (Yeah?) word, skag

We’d be the perfect match

'Cause you’re a vacuum, I’m a dirtbag

My apologies, no disrespect to technology

But what the heck is all of these buttons?

You expect me to sit here and learn that?

Fuck I gotta do to hear this new song from Luda?

Be an expert at computers?

I’d rather be an Encyclopedia Britannica, hell with

PlayStation, I’m still on my first man on some Zelda

Nintendo, bitch! Run, jump, punch, stab, and I melt the

Mozzarella on my spaghetti

Put in on bread, make a sandwich with Welch’s, and belch

They say this spray butter is bad for my health, but

I think this poor white trash from the trailer

Jed Clampett, Fred Sanford, and welfare

Mentality helps to keep me grounded

That’s why I never take full advantage of wealth, I

Managed to dwell within these parameters

Still crammin' the shelves full of Hamburger Helper

I can’t even help it, this is the hand I was dealt, a

Creature of habit, feel like I’m trapped in an animal shelter

With all these pet peeves, goddamn it, to hell, I

Can’t stand all these kids with their camera cellphones

I can’t go anywhere, I get so mad I could yell, the

Other day, someone got all elaborate

And stuck a head from a fuckin' dead cat in my mailbox

Went to Burger King—they spit on my onion rings

I think my karma is catchin' up with me

Maybe that’s why I feel so strange

Got it all, but I still won’t change

Maybe that’s why I can’t leave Detroit

It’s the motivation that keeps me goin'

This is the inspiration I need

I can never turn my back on the city that made me

And (life's been good to me so far)

Got friends on Facebook all over the world

Not sure what that means, they tell me it’s good

So, I’m artist of the decade, I even got a plaque

I’d hang it up, but the frame is all cracked

I’m tryin' to be low-key, hopefully nobody notices me

In produce, hunched over, giant nosebleed

Ogre style as I mosey over to the frozen aisle

By the frozen yogurt this guy approached me

Embarrassed, I just did Comerica with Hova

The show’s over, I’m hidin' in Kroger, buyin' groceries

He just had front-row seats

Told me to sign this poster, then insults me

«Wow! Up close didn’t know you had crow’s feet!»

I’m in the crossroads, lost, still shoppin' at Costco’s

Sloppy Joe’s, bulk waffles

Got caught picking my nose (agh!)

Look over, see these two hot hoes

Finger still up one of my nostrils

Right next to 'em, stuck at the light, the fuckin' shit’s

Takin' forever to change, it’s stuck, these bitches are lovin' it

Rubbin' it in, chucklin', couldn’t do nothin'

Play it off, «What you bumpin'?»

«Trunk Muzik, Yelawolf’s better,» fuckin' bitch!

They want me to flip at the label, but I won’t succumb to it

The pressure, they want me to follow up with

Another one, after Recovery was so highly coveted

But what good is a fuckin' recovery if I fumble it?

'Cause I’ma drop the ball if I don’t get a grip

Hoppin' out shrubbery on you sons of bitches

Wrong subdivision to fuck with, bitch

Quit snappin' fuckin' pictures of my kids

I love my city, but you pushed me to the limit—what a pity!

The shit I complain about

It’s like there ain’t a cloud in the sky and it’s rainin' out

Kool-Aid stain on the couch, I’ll never get it out

But bitch, I got an elevator in my house

Ants and a mouse—I'm livin' the dream!

Maybe that’s why I feel so strange

Got it all, but I still won’t change

Maybe that’s why I can’t leave Detroit

It’s the motivation that keeps me goin'

This is the inspiration I need

I can never turn my back on the city that made me

And (life's been good to me so far)