conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Syllables with the following description: The cream of the Shady/Aftermath crop and Jay-Hova go in on a surprisingly complex take on kids' propensity for simple music.
  The song leaked in late 2010 but was recorded around late 2007 and was possibly intended for Eminem’s scrapped project King Mathers or Dr. Dre’s never released Detox.
  The name “My Syllables” was confirmed in an October 2008 interview with Quo where he explained:
  The song that featured Jay-Z is a song that Em’s putting on his album called ‘My Syllielable” – it’s like ‘my syllable,’ [only] he flipped it.
  Ca$his also talked about the song on a MTV interview:
  I laid my part at Dre’s studio with Stat, 50 and Em. […] I heard that Jay had just left when I got there. Fif' was there kicking his verse in another room when I did mine. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro: Eminem]
  It is not about lyrics anymore
  It's about a hot beat and a catchy hook
  [Verse 1: Eminem]
  If we gotta dumb down our style and A-B-C it
  Then so be it, 'cause nowadays, these kids just
  Don't give a shit 'bout lyrics
  All they wanna hear is a beat and that's it
  Long as they can go to the club and get blitzed
  Pick up some chicks and get some digits
  And the DJ's playing them hits
  "Oh, this my jam! This my shit!
  We don't know a word to a verse, all we know is the chorus
  'Cause the chorus repeats the same four words for us"
  And the song's ginormous, the whole formula's switched
  'Cause we don't know anymore what are hits
  Is it the beat? Is it the rap?
  Is it a finger snap or the same 808 clap?
  And how do we adapt and get TRL votes
  When thirteen-year-olds control the remotes?
  And Ashlee's got a brand new nose
  We gotta put some new em-pha-sis on our syl-la-la-bles
  [Verse 2: JAY-Z]
  If the emphasis on the compact disc is in the beat
  Then I'm gon' feature Em and get rich
  And let Dre mix the shit, and drive off in the Range Ro'
   
  'Cause everywhere I go they love the "bling-bling" flow!
  Bang-bang, look at the way my chain glow
  The ring on my fing' cost your man a lot of dough (Oh)
  The fuck am I bustin' my brain fo'?
  It's just the way the game go and, oh, it takes two to tango
  You call this a lame flow? You bought the shit
  I guess you to blame too, I just found an angle (Ha-ha-ha)
  No more reality flow
  I'm tryna time my album dropping with a reality show
  Cock the MAC-11 in front of Hot 97
  And call my publicist, tell her we in press heaven (Ha-ha)
  No one gives a shit except
  Some kids that just got into sex on the Internet
  So you want the chatroom or the house in Malibu?
  Em, your emphasis is on the wrong syl-la-la-ble [Verse 3: Dr. Dre & 
  Eminem
  ]
  They said thirty's the new twenty
  , funny
  Must mean forty's the new thirty, interesting
  'Cause ever since then, it's been, in a sense, an extension
  For veteran rappers that are better than half of
  The shit comin' out right now, it's all trash
  The torch is gonna burn out before it gets passed
  JAY said it's his last, then 50 and Em
  Then what?
   
  Detox
   drops, what do we got then?
  So now our whole camps is runnin' around
  Scrambling over what to do
  Gamblin' every time we put a record out
  Just lookin' for that hook (
  Wait, Dre, look!
  )
  [Chorus: Eminem]
  Shorty, I love you
  And you love me too
  We were meant to be
  'Cause, shorty, you love me
  And I love you too
  And I promise I'll be true to you
  [Verse 4: 50 Cent]
  Go shawty, it's your birthday
   (Woo)
  You made it just in time to hear my wordplay
  It's the kid that flip flows who used to flip O's
  And run G for days, you should see how I get hoes
  I'm international, I get my dick licked 'round the globe
  I'm sick right into shows, ridin' on lolos (Yeah)
  Puffin' on coco, my bitch in Manolos
  Don't fuck with the dodos, that's slang for dumb hoes (Oh)
  I'm playin', I ain't got time to joke, joke
  You fuck around, you could get your ass smoked, loc
  It's not a game, me, B, I ain't playin', beat behind me playin'
  So you don't hear anyway, you don't hear what I'm sayin'
  Me fin-nini-na, fee-fi-fididee-yay
  Just give me my check and I'll be on my way
  Sunny, bunny, money and funny
  You ain't even listening and I just took your money (Ha) [Verse 5: Stat Quo]
  There once was a time everywhere you turned ('Where you turned)
  Shady-Aftermath was all you heard
  But they say 50 sang too much, and Em got soft (Got soft)
  And they say Dre just fell the fuck off (Woo!)
  Well, fuck the fuck-offs! All y'all eat salt
  Be mad, we back, fresh up outta the vault
  Oh! New syl-la-la-bles, eat ball, you fuck-offs
  Your house, your bitch, I'm getting sucked off
  East, South, Midwest, even up North
  Falling victim to wax, 
  spitting, bring out the white chalk
  All for the gingerbread
  , we get it and get lost
  Catch me if you can, I'm runnin' past while y'all walk
  [Verse 6: Ca$his]
  Shady made me for bringin' it back
  'Fore the history of rap is gone with a snap
  A snare and a clap, what happened to just spittin'
  'Bout livin' in the motherfuckin' city you at?
  In the grimiest condition, I breathe in drama
  King Mathers
   and Cash—me—that's free karma
  I'm everything, anything you can never be
  It's a hidden rhyme of the month deep in the beef
  I speak with a piece, no peace on my mind
  I repeat every evil deed done of mine (Yeah)
  No rest contest, contract to sign
  By blood, I'm in this squad for life
  Air out my windpipes, and I just chime
  I'm the reason you guys won't say that line
  I'm crazy, renegade like Em and Jay-Z
  I'm Rosemary's baby, I want you to hate me [Chorus: Eminem]
  Shorty, I love you
  And you love me too
  We were meant to be
  'Cause, shorty, you love me
  And I love you too
  And I promise I'll be true to you
  [Outro: Eminem]
  It is not about lyrics anymore
  It is not about lyrics anymore
  It's about a hot beat, a hot beat
  It's about a hot beat, a hot beat
  A hot-hot-hot beat and a catchy hook
  A hot-hot-hot beat and a catchy hook
  Nobody gives a damn about them syllables
  Syl-la-la-bles, whatever they are
  I don't care if you gotta rhyme "schmoe," "mo," "Joe," "toe," and "glow"
  Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
  Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
  Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
  Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
  Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
  Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
  Now, get out there and sell some goddamn records!
  Now, get out there and sell some