Le moins que l'on puisse dire c'est que Revival, le dernier album en date d'Eminem sortie en 2017 n'a pas fait l'unanimité autant pour ses choix de productions que pour ses textes, même auprès de ses fans.
En revanche la prestation de Marhall Mathers surt Caterpillar de son ami de Détroit Royce de 5'9'' avec lequel il formait le duo Bad Meets Evil, va mettre tout le monde d'accord. C'est du pur Slim Shady vintage , appellation d'origine contrôlée.
Certes l'instru sonne très à l'ancienne, et le refrain de King Green fait très French Montana, mais Eminem se lâche sur le beat comme on ne l'avait plus entendu faire depuis longtemps. Flow rapide et précis, variations, texte acéré limite sanglant qui taille le "mumble rap". Et l'alchimie avec Royce est comme à chaque fois incroyable.
Bref, du feu !
You're looking at Atilla, the psychopathic killer, the caterpillar Don't tell me when I'm supposed to rap until, uh Especially when your favorite rapper ain't even half as ill A savage still, the track's a banana peel, attack at a silver-back gorilla You're havin' a little trouble fathomin' this is actually happenin' Like Anderson Silva back when he snapped his shin in half And then had the shit hangin' by a flap of skin After he tried to plant the shit back on the mat again Pad to pen I’m batty like eyelids when they're blinkin' a lot You copy me, but you're not You can't be butterflies, my offsprings are just moths I see that thing I'ma squash it and rip the wings of it off So ring the alarm, pull the extinguishers off of the wall Set the sprinklers off like Jada Pinkett and Queen Latifah 'Till the shingles come off the roof we'll shout at the ceiling Slaughterhouse in the building, middle fingers aloft Say what I think when I rhyme, in ink-pen I talk And the language I speak is my mind Kingpin and Penguin combined Spit like it's King of the Dot A singular thought I think of will help you distinguish apart The frauds from the cream of the crop (Wait a minute) Hold up like a flashcard Damn dawg, is that copyin' or payin' homage? It's sad because dad taught you to rap as a damn toddler My dad is your grandfather, I'll have to re-hatch on you Come back as black wasp, half yellow jacket, you can't swat a Sasquatch dancing on top of an ant trample it and stomp it Smash it and stand on it, dammit, I can't stop it The rap is a vag' and I'm goin' in like a tampon in this bitch It's a manslaughter Stampin' out grasshoppers, you can't be no Rap Gods In fact you're exact opposites, you make a wack song And can't hold a candle but even Daniel-son whacks off You jack-offs need to come to grips like a hand job The boom bap is coming back with an axe to mumble rap Lumberjack with a hacksaw Number one, but my pencils are number twos 'Cause that's all I dos with 'em, poop is my pseudonym On the john like a prostitute when I'm droppin' a deuce And when I'm producing them lyrical bowel movements These beats are like my saloons 'Cause these bars always got my stools in 'em And I don't need Metamucil to loosen 'em Bitch, shit is real like I pooped Jerusalem I'm 'bout to go spin a cocoon Then I'm cuttin' you from your mother's womb Then I'm flushin' you!
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Crédit photo : capture écran YouTube James Larese