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EMINEM – Alfred’s Theme Chords and Tabs for Guitar and Piano

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This song is from the album Music To Be Murdered By – Side B(2020), released on 18 December 2020. The vocals are by Eminem , the music is produced by Luis Resto, Charles Gounod , Eminem, and the lyrics are written by Eminem ,.
It is originally in the key of F Minor. You can change it to any key you want, using the Transpose option. The average tempo is 95 BPM. These chords are simple and easy to play on the guitar, ukulele or piano.

 
Original Key: F Minor
Time Signature: 4/4
Tempo: 95
Suggested Strumming: DU,DU,DU,DU
c h o r d  z o n e . o r g
[INTRO]

 [VERSE ONE]
 Fm
 Before I check the mic (Check, check, one, two)
 Fm
 I give it an extra swipe with a Lysol disinfectant wipe (Good evening)
 Fm
 Coronavirus in effect tonight
 Fm
 Antiseptics on deck, I got every type (Yeah)
 Fm
 I throw on my tux, then I (Yeah) give zero fucks, then I (Yeah)
 Fm
 Act like a jockstrap (Uh), cup my nuts, then I (Yeah)
 Fm
 Check my ball hair (What?), make sure it's all there (Yeah)
 Fm
 Then call the pallbearer (Yeah)
 Fm
 It's Music to Bе Murdered By again, why stop?
 Fm
 Overkill likе a pipe bomb in your pine box
 Fm
 You're all hitched to my cock (What?)
 Fm
 Went from punchin' a time clock to getting my shot
 Fm
 Then treated it like a cyclops
 Fm
 Like it's the only one I (Only one eye) got
 Fm
 And my thoughts are like nines cocked (Chk-chk)
 Fm
 Every line's obscene, pervertedest mind, got the dirtiest rhyme stocked
 Fm
 That's why there's parental advising (Visine) every time I drop (Eye drop)
 Fm
 So throw on the theme to Alfred, I'll channel him like the Panama Canal
 Fm
 But how could I get up in arms about you saying trash is all that I put out?
 Fm
 Bitch, I still get the bag when I'm putting garbage out
 Fm
 Plus, the potty mouth, I'm not about to wash it out
 Fm
 The filthiest, so all this talk about I'm washed up, how preposterous
 Fm
 Because if cleanliness is next to godliness
 Fm
 It's obvious that it's impossible for me to be beside myself
 Fm
 And I'm 'bout that capital like a proper noun
 Fm
 Still on top the pile
 Fm
 Got me sitting on numbers like a pocket dial
 Fm
 Quick to call you out on your bullshit
 Fm
 Don't make me give that crock a dial
 Fm
 'Cause if I do it, see you later, alligator
 Fm
 Made it out the trailer, then I made a vow to cater to no one
 Fm
 So hate, I've gained about the same amount that's in my bank account
 Fm
 So here's some more shit for you to complain about, I say the
 Fm
 Bars that never slack, but always get attacked (Yeah)
 Fm
 I think they're gunnin' for me, it's startin' to feel like that
 Fm
 Like I'm marked, 'cause when I rap, it's like fallin' on my back in a tar pit
 Fm
 'Cause I have this target on my back (Ew, yuck)
 Fm
 But if I ever double-crossed my fans and lost my Stans
 Fm
 I'd probably pop five Xans (Yeah)
 Fm
 Go in my garage, start my van
 Fm
 Inhale as much carbon monoxide and exhaust I can
 Fm
 And doze off like *snores*
 Fm
 But odds like that, with these thoughts I have's like a giant getting squashed by ants
 Fm
 If this is the test of time, I'd pass with flying colors
 Fm
 Like I just tossed my crayons (Tossed my crayons)
 Fm
 Small, medium, and large size cans
 Fm
 Sanitizers of all types, brands, cost nine bands
 Fm
 Which is a small price for Lysol wipes and
 Fm
 If my palms brush across my pants, I wash my hands
 Fm
 [Interlude]
 Fm
 Shit, hold on, man
 Fm
 Motherfucker
 Fm
 Happy birthday to—
 Fm
 Fuck (Shh, quiet)
 
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 [VERSE TWO]
 Fm
 I sit in silence in candlelit environments
 Fm
 Sipping Wild Irish while getting violent
 Fm
 Homicidal visions when I'm spitting like this
 Fm
 But really I'm just fulfilling my wish of killing rhymes
 Fm
 Which is really childish and silly, but I'm really like this
 Fm
 I'm giving nightmares to Billie Eilish, I'm Diddy's side bitch


 Fm
 What the fuck? Hold on, wait
 Fm
 "I'm Diddy's side bitch?"
 Fm
 Oh, I'm still east side, bitch


 [VERSE THREE]
 Fm
 So until the E-N-D, since EPMD
 Fm
 Been givin' y'all the business (Yeah), D-R-E and me (Yup)
 Fm
 From the MMLP to MTBMB (Bitch)
 Fm
 Bitch, it's 2020, you still ain't seein' me (Haha)
 Fm
 So call me Santa Claus (Santa Claus)
 Fm
 'Cause at the present (Yeah), I out-rap 'em all, I'm at the mall
 Fm
 Got your bitch in a bathroom stall, she could suck a basketball (Uh)
 Fm
 Through a plastic straw (Yeah) with a fractured jaw (Damn)
 Fm
 My dick is coat check (Ha), she wanna jack it off (Yeah)
 Fm
 I'm so far past the bar, I should practice law
 Fm
 Mentally, I'm fucked up generally (General Lee) (Duh)
 Fm
 Dukes of Hazzard car (Yeah), get the cadaver dogs
 Fm
 'Cause this is murder, murder and you'll get murked, murked
 Fm
 This music 'bout to kill you, brr, brr (Brr)
 Fm
 This chicken hit my phone, she said, "Chirp, chirp"
 Fm
 I said, "Hut, hut, hike your skirt, skirt"
 Fm
 Then go eat some worms, like the early bird
 Fm
 What the fuck is love? That's a dirty word
 Fm
 Make me fall in it, there's not a girl on Earth
 Fm
 Or any other planet, that's a world of hurt
 Fm
 And I won't buy a designer, 'cause I don't pander (Panda)
 Fm
 But I'm back with so many knots, I need a chiropractor (Damn)
 Fm
 And this the final chapter, 'cause I'm either frying after
 Fm
 Or they gon' give me the needle (What?) like a vinyl scratcher (DJ)
 Fm
 Yeah, I'm a card, like Hallmark
 Fm
 At Walmart with a small cart buying wall art
 Fm
 And y'all who claim to be dogs aren't
 Fm
 No bite, like a tree, mostly just all bark, arf, arf
 Fm
 But y'all pickin' the wrong tree, 
 Fm
 they call me dog because I'm barking (Bar king, bark, bark, barking)
 Fm
 And I got a lot, yeah, like where cars park
 Fm
 I'd describe it as bowling (Why?) ball hard (Ball's hard)
 Fm
 'Cause the gutter's where my mind is and when
 Fm
 It's in this frame, better split like the five and the ten
 Fm
 'Cause without a second to spare, I'm strikin' again
 Fm
 And when the beat is up my alley, I go right for the pens (Pins)
 Fm
 The cypher begins
 
 www.chordzone.org
  
 Fm
 I'm talkin' smack like heroin, the mic's a syringe
 Fm
 It's like a binge, Vicodin, I would liken to tin
 Fm
 My mind is a recycling bin
 Fm
 There's no place I never been
 Fm
 But I never budge and I never bend
 Fm
 You hyperextend on me, this game's life, it depends
 Fm
 Like adult diapers for men
 Fm
 Even when I'm rappin' less stellar
 Fm
 It's sour grapes, I still whine, I'm the best seller (Cellar)
 Fm
 Like a trey deuce, spray you as these shots penetrate through Dre's booth
 Fm
 And go straight through your grapefruit, no escape route
 Fm
 So you won't leave here just scathed with a few scrape wounds
 Fm
 Your ass is grass and I am not gonna graze you
 Fm
 But if bars were semi-mac's, I'd be the Mad Hatter
 Fm
 'Cause I got so many caps, and you don't have any straps (Nah)
 Fm
 So you'd be a fitted (Yeah), so don't act like you fittin' to snap
 Fm
 Bitch, I'll pee (P) on your head like a Phillies hat (Haha)
 Fm
 No stoppin' me, you're on a window shopping spree
 Fm
 Bitch, you probably go broke at the Dollar Tree
 Fm
 You never buy shit, all you ever cop's a plea
 Fm
 You're always punkin' out like Halloween
 Fm
 You rather opt to flee, you need to stop it, punk
 Fm
 Homie, you're not a G, act like you got the pump
 Fm
 And you're gonna cock the heat or get the Glock and dump
 Fm
 Bitch, if you shot a tree, you wouldn't pop the trunk
 Fm
 Yeah, and I'm buddies with Alfred, we about to
 Fm
 Disembowel them, gut 'em and scalp 'em, yeah
 Fm
 This is 'bout to be the bloodiest outcome
 Fm
 'Cause we gon' make you bleed with every cut from this album
 Fm
 So I'm choppin' 'em up like Dahmer
 Fm
 The nut job with the nuts that are bigger than Jabba the Hutt
 Fm
 I'm in the cut, and I'm out for the blood
 Fm
 It's lookin' like it's that time of the month
 Fm
 Carvin' 'em up with the bars while I sharpen 'em up, dog and a mutt
 Fm
 I'm gonna fuck your mom in the butt with a thermometer, fuckin' phenomenal, but
 Fm
 Y'all'll get cut the fuck up like abdominals if you don't vámonos
 Fm
 I keep droppin' like dominos, the formidable, abominable
 Fm
 Stompin' a mudhole in my comp even if it's off the top of the dome
 Fm
 Son 'em, get the Coppertone, I'm at the Stop and Go coppin' the Mop and Glo
 Fm
 Got your stomach in knots like you swallowed rope
 Fm
 You out of pocket though, like a motherfuckin' wallet stole
 
 [OUTRO]
 Fm
 Wait, why'd the beat cut off?
 Fm
 Fuck it

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