conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Soul Intent with the following description: ‘Soul Intent’ is the fifth track off of Still in the Bassmint, the second project recorded by Soul Intent (Eminem & Chaos Kid). The only available version of the song besides a physical copy is a live recording of Eminem (then known as M&M) and Chaos Kid from 1992.
   Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Scratches: DJ Butter Fingers]
  "Those that bluffed got stuffed in the basement"
  "Those that bluffed got stuffed in the basement"
  "Those that bluffed got stuffed in the basement"
  [Verse 1: Eminem]
  I don't got perfect eyesight
  But I could spot your fake ass in the dark wearin' solid black
  Makin' yourselves look pitiful makes us all look wack
  So don't stand up there on me with those [in a?] [?]
  Tryna act vicious when your whole fuckin' image is factitious
  I see you got a rare case of gangster limp
  All that practicin' on your walk when you wouldn't step to a staircase
  You must think I'm too gullible to notice that
  Your personality's gettin' too colorful, I don't believe I'm actually seein' this crap
  You better get your head checked
  'Cause I don't see how a redneck could be into rap
  You even picked up an accent, "I'm from the streets!"
  Whatever the fuck that meant, so now we want that chocolate
  I knew this life was artificial to begin with
  So I stepped on him with my feet, but now they're covered in dog shit
  So don't give me that "Boogie Woogie, I'm real" rap
  A minute more, I know what you're in it for, what's your intent?
  [Chorus: Eminem]
  Are you in it for the profit? Does money in ya pocket
  Mean more than respect? Or do ya play for sport
  And that's all that's really important
  Compete for competition comes before any check, tell me, what's your intent?
  Are you lookin' at this as simply just a quick way to make a ducat
  Or does your heart go in each tune?
  I'm interested in your purpose 'cause this shit's becomin' a circus
  And us jugglers need some elbow room [Verse 2: Eminem]
  Most independent companies are full of crap
  Tryna get me to write a booty rap with a pop feel
  But I wouldn't sell out for a Scooby Snack
  Here's some hairspray, better make up a nickname
  Yell enough to gain quick fame, and we'll get you airplay
  But I ain't sellin' out, I could give a fuck less how much money
  A label is willing to start shelling out, so here we are
  We're all sitting in the basement getting overpatient
  While these idiots are making shitty hits and hitting gold
  [?] May look a hell of a lot easier than it really is
  But they just wanna benefit from the glitter and glamorous wonderful world of rap
  So they can make a track and live comfortable like Hammer is
  With the more money, the more cost, so if you wanna be successful
  You gotta have something special to stand out like a sore thumb
  But don't say record sales make you dominant
  Open up your mouth and talk like that again and I'll put a bomb in it, what's your intent?
  [Chorus: Eminem]
  Are you in it for the profit? Does money in ya pocket
  Mean more than respect? Or do ya play for sport
  And that's all that's really important
  Compete for competition comes before any check, tell me, what's your intent?
  Are you lookin' at this as simply just a quick way to make a ducat
  Or does your heart go in each tune?
  I'm interested in your purpose 'cause this shit's becomin' a circus
  And us jugglers need some elbow room [Scratches: DJ Butter Fingers]
  "Then I got my own" "Yes"
  "Then I got my own" "Yes"
  "Then I got my own" "Yes"
  "To be down, you must appeal"
  [Verse 3: Eminem]
  I'll probably live more than twice than
  The average rappers lifespan, 'cause half of 'em are dyin' out
  From growin' a bigger nose than Barbra Streisand
  'Cause you ain't never seen hard times, if my experiences were visible
  You'd see hard times to make you miserable
  Reminiscing back to when I couldn't even afford to record a track
  If I was robbed I'd have to fight to my death for my quarter back
  My whole fuckin' life has been full of emptiness
  So what makes a hollow heart [?] for now, 'cause I'm penniless
  As long as I respect myself that's all that counts, so no secret
  My wallet's all the money [?] small amounts it's good enough
  If I know that I set my standards, prominence doesn't come before
  Priorities, the more at ease, I'm being [?]
  And I'll keep workin' until I get it perfect
  Growin' up the concept [?] beyond death, [?] interpret
  Any sentence proves that there is soul intent
  Which means I stuck to my intentions, what's your intent?
  [Chorus: Eminem]
  Are you in it for the profit? Does money in ya pocket
  Mean more than respect? Or do ya play for sport
  And that's all that's really important
  Compete for competition comes before any check, tell me, what's your intent?
  Are you lookin' at this as simply just a quick way to make a ducat
  Or does your heart go in each tune?
  I'm interested in your purpose 'cause this shit's becomin' a circus
  And us jugglers need some elbow room