conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Em360 Rapcity Backroom Freestyle with the following description: Eminem and the other members of Slaughterhouse team up to provide a lyrical barrage on “Em360 Rapcity Backroom Freestyle,” a superstar squad posse cut. On the track, the artists take turns freestyling lyrics and rap about a variety of different topics. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro: Big Trigger]
  Yea Ya'll know what it is
  Rap City presents Em360
  Slaughterhouse, Eminem, Big Tigg, Just Blaze!
  On the 1s and 2s, oh-oh
  [Intro: Eminem]
  Yo Tigg, get in the not booth
  And spit the truth, to the young youth
  [Verse 1: Big Trigger]
  Aight, ay, Amex don't leave home without your cards
  But this Hip Hop, so don't leave home without your bars
  And for some of these rap stars, that's just too bad
  Cause you can't bring out them bars, that you ain't never had
  It's Eminem and Slaughterhouse, yeah you know we the truth
  And ohh the game is out of order, since we closed the booth
  Yes indeed original, beats the replacement cause
  The back room will never be what the basement was
  [Verse 2: Joe Budden]
  I'm the realest mo'fucker that I know
  Wasn't always the case guess the figure had to grow
  I do it for the love I don't do it for the dough
  But I know these sucker figures will so they keep me on my toes
  What's sad is I couldn't tell you what I'm hated for
  And them painkillers didn't murder the pain they gave me more
  These fans on my head now they say they want the old Joe
  I grew up mature y'all can't see that this the old Joe
  Want to see me lose every battle of depression
  No matter what it do to me, no matter my regression
  They want to see me fall, want to ruin my regiment from the start
  Want to cut the beat off soon as I let em in my heart
  I'd be the first to admit it, lost focus for a while
  Sendin' unsolicited dick pics to dimwitted thick chicks
  Was so high I lost track of my ways
  Then I fell in love with a baby and got mad at her age
  The way she act and behave, was it an act or a phase
  How you trife when I gave you life
  You was lacking in wage
  You don't want say hi or speak to me
  Bet you makin 200 dollars by weekly
  Try to help the world out, bring some reparation
  And forget being humble in a state of desperation
  Ain't gotta ask what to help with no hesitation
  And for me to deal with it I might need some meditation
  I love you but its best we stay apart, segregation
  And to cope with the feeling I might need some medication
  Trust me I don't never want to see that side of Joe
  It would kill us all slow, one reason I'm the realest mother-mother I know [Verse 3: Royce da 5'9]
  Its Nickle, riding round in that Maserati four seat
  Symbol on the grill looking like Tony Stark's goatee
  Best rapper alive and you know me
  The most distinguished shooter that's coming up out of the D since Joe D
  I take mines at lead point
  At the risk of having to shave my garlic clove in a razor inside a fed joint
  Hip hop is alive, but the rhymes died
  Only fear I have is "world star" being yelled from my blind side
  Don't get me wrong it ain't like I ain't never lost a fight
  But these days I'm more like a lyrical artiste
  I'm outlining everybody in chalk white
  The off-beat deceased version of Dr. Narcisse
  This ain't blueprint, your idolizing
  You tryna jump fast that's foolish of you in my drunk past and handing me my pilot's license
  That's plain stupid, your boy's a star
  Sitting in that drop top fish bowl and the doors ajar
  It's ironic I remember when I couldn't afford a car
  And now it's back and forth
  The black one or white one I call 'em Macklemore
  And Lord Jamar, first we defyin' the odds
  We not a group, we more like a circular firing squad
  This not a booth, this is our house and we won't stop
  We killed the cypher two times already
  What you gon' give us an award
  But we won't stop for shutting down the internet
  Now tell ya momma hi, and tell Rihanna we ain't finished yet [Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
  When we step in that booth, that's when the flame enters
  Best spit, make any set trip, 
  yeah its the gang members
  Waving that shady flag, navy jag
  Matching the yank' fit, with the polo brief showing, due to the lazy sag
  I'm in a crazy kind of place
  I got this thing right on my waist that'll leave tears on your baby mommas face
  So chill, I'm in a crazy kind of place, I got this thing below my waist
  That'll leave kids on your baby mommas face, for real
  The flow gets cracked, as it came in capsules
  Your cap just started snapping
  My starter caps was snapping
  When cross color was cracking
  And my cane was half full
  With the half moon park, hope you rap dudes smart
  Don't piss me off like the bathroom mop
  You don't want it with me
  If I'm throwing hooks at you, that don't mean the chorus for free
  So save your jabs its way better
  If I start throwing jabs I'm talking Zabs first three round against Mayweather
  Yeah I'm a crook from the brook, that mastered how niggas shook turned notebook
  Broke cook, I'm so dope look
  Bring the beat back with no hook just bars
  Just a thing of ours that make their pants drop, make em open up their bras
  Move g-strings like guitars, that's nothing, that's something light
  Like Riesling at the bar
  Y-A-O-W-A, if y'all ain't saying Yaowa by now you got nothing to say
  This like NWO vs NWA
  , 
  y'all like the rockers versus the ROC
  Full of nothing but Jays
  Check the rocks its nothing fugaz'
  But don't get stupid my Cooper clique will throw shots for a couple of days
  Make it horny when we out, 
  Amityville horror, y'all don't want it with the house [Verse 5: Crooked I]
  Slaughter season, y'all the reason
  Real dudes I'm bringing some more in
  Like a Polynesian
  Sick with the llama squeezing
  Bullets flew and the chopper sneezing
  Got your body and legs torn, but before you was airborne
  You was bob and weaving still getting hit till your nos' is weezing
  They set you deep in your coffin sleeping
  I'm gone off the deep end, 
  I'm a wolf, this industry my sheep skin
  I'm out here hunting with my ink pen
  I'm living like a kingpin
  Doing it for my g's in the pen
  Dreaming about two-piecing a police chief's chin
  You rappers something candy coated, I don't like suckers
  I'm Iron Mike, I don't like Busters
  You looking for em' fly dudes like Orville and Wilbur
  You got the Wright brothers
  No bright jeans, no bright colors
  I'm the second coming, the one that Pac predicted
  Islamic, Gnostic and Christian, the flow so godly you got to listen
  I backed you in a dodge a minute
  Like MC Eiht in a L.A. hat, these rappers straight tryna dodge a menace
  I'm looking at your videos, look like your watching tennis
  Brothers dressed like Maria Sharapova wearing yoga pants
  Meanwhile Big Poppa was rocking linens
  I guess that era's over man, hold on
  I'm splitting atoms when the scientific spitting is getting at em'
  I give em' different patterns, they didn't fathom, they stealing my styles
  Before me you didn't have em'
  You rappers made in my image like when God was inventing Adam
  Stab em in the abdomen when its crunch time
  I truly flip like Mayweather pissed of at a movie script
  Too many punchlines
  Family I'm amongst mine
  I keep the peace like a monks mind
  .357 fade your favorite barber
  Leave you in an old bush like an unshaven Barbara
  Don't stop what we doing
  When you see L.A. your team will be ruined
  This game need a new villain, I'm the kind to murder you on vine, ooh kill em'
  [Introduction: Big Trigger]
  Ladies and gentlemen
  Now introducing the man, the myth, the legend
  Mister Marshall Mathers AKA (chicka-chicka) Slim Shady
  [Verse 6: Eminem]
  Ayo, can we cut this beat off?
  I might need to do this acapella, yo
  Role model?
  I'll roll a model down a hill over broke bottles of Coke products
  If she don't swallow, and tie her to the bumper, hit the throttle
  While I'm tryna hit the potholes, I'll freaking take Madonna to McDonalds
  Any ho'll end up horizontal gettin' fondled, I don't cuddle, I don't coddle
  Only motto that I follow's everything I drive, whether it's a Navajo or a Tahoe
  It's got a ho in it
  Nah, ho, I don't got no freaking bronco
  You looking for a buck, get a horse, fuck Tonto
  I got a rusty Hondo with some bondo
  And a box of condoms, little blond ho
  Fuck me? Fuck you too, like I'm at Bonnaroo booing Bono
  And I ain't from this planet so nanu, nana, nanu
  I'm intolerable, too volatile, screw it
  I don't gotta make the honor roll to be on a roll
  I don't know much, what I do know I do it pronto though
  So knock it off, all these knock-off-me's
  ,
  The last thing the world needs is another me
  But if you think this is part two to 
  Recovery
  Or "Love the Way You Lie" part twelve
  Or something heart felt, you 'bout to make a discovery
  Like you found Christopher Columbus' compass
  Ain't dumbing shit down for you dumb motherfuckers, so suck it
  I took your best punchline like a punch in the stomach
  That punctured a lung, punk, and I'm still functioning from it
  Chump
  It was nothing
  Now watch while I fuckin' one up it and toot my own horn
  Once I think of something to trump it
  And I don't need a fucking instrument to sound off
  Like the trunk of an elephant; the triumphant
  Return of the ether spitting retard, reborn
  But chances of you having another re-birth
  , 
  slim to none
  Like a skinny Mother Teresa
  , give a fuck if it's Easter, 
  so kiss my keister
  'Cause that's the only thing I'll turn the other cheek for