8 Mile
8 Mile is a 2002 American drama film written by Scott Silver and directed by Curtis Hanson. It stars Eminem in his film debut, alongside Mekhi Phifer, Brittany Murphy, Michael Shannon, Kim Basinger and Anthony Mackie, the latter also in his film debut. The film, which contains autobiographical elements from Eminem's life, follows Detroit rapper Jimmy Smith Jr. aka B-Rabbit (Eminem) and his attempt to launch a career in hip hop, a music genre dominated by African Americans. The title is derived from 8 Mile Road, the road between the predominantly black city of Detroit and the largely white suburban communities to the north that Eminem originally lived in. 8 Mile was a critical and commercial success. It opened at No. 1 in the US with $51.3 million grossed in its opening weekend and an eventual total of $242.9 million worldwide. The film's accompanying soundtrack (released by Universal's then subsidiary Universal Music, through Interscope and Shady/Aftermath) was also a commercial success, being certified quadruple platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). The film garnered numerous award nominations and wins, including an Academy Award for Best Original Song win for "Lose Yourself" for Eminem, Jeff Bass and Luis Resto at the 75th Academy Awards. 8 Mile was named one of the best films of 2002 by several publications.
Okay. Where the fuck is B-Rabbit? B-Rabbit? What're you sayin' brother? Got everybody waitin; All right, let you all know, it's gonna be blazin' up in this bitch tonight. Got a lot of dope rappers comin'to the stage, and it's gonna be nice. One of these cats is goin'down a winner via sweet Papa Doc. Trust me. If this shit is goin'where I think it is, I might want to stick around. Come to the stage, Rabbit. Come to the stage.! B-Rabbit, where you at? Oh, there he is. Come on. All right, make way for the Rabbit. Let him come through.
8 Mile
[Drum Track] Free World, okay? Tell you somethin'. [Bass, Rhythmic Shouting] Check this out. Check this out. Yo. This guy's a choke artist. You catch a bad one, you better off shootin' yourself with Papa Doc's handgun Climbin' up this mountain You're weak, I leave you lost without a paddle Floatin'up shit's creek You ain't Detroit, I'm the "D" You the new kid on the block 'bout to get smacked back to the boondocks Fuckin' Nazi Your squad ain't your type Take some real advice And form a group with Vanilla Ice And what I tell you You better use it This guy's a hillbilly This ain't Willie Nelson music Trailer trash, I'll choke you to your last breath And have you look foolish Like Cheddar Bob when he shot himself Silly Rabbit I know why they call you that 'Cause you follow Future Like he got carrots up his ass crack And when you acted up That's when you got jacked up and act stupid Like Tina Turner when she got smacked up I crack your shoulder blade You'll get dropped so hard That Elvis'll start turnin' in his grave - [Laughing, Groaning] - Now I know why they left you out in the dark Take your white ass back across 8 Mile to the trailer park Oh, no, oh.! Okay, okay, okay. Okay, okay. Very nice, very nice. Let me get that mike, man. Pretty good, pretty good. Hip-hop 101. Hey, Bunny Rabbit. It's your turn, baby. Forty-five seconds. Let this motherfucker feel it. A'ight? Yo, D.J., spin that shit.
8 Mile
Hey, yo. This guy raps like his parents jerked him He sounds like Erick Sermon The generic version This crowd looks suspicious It's all dudes in here Except for these bitches You want a German, eh That's okay, you look like a fuckin' worm with braids These Leadaz Of Tha Free World rookies Lookie How could six dicks be pussies Talkin'bout shit's creek Bitch, you could be up piss creek with paddles This deep You're still gonna sink You're a disgrace Yeah, they call me Rabbit This is a turtle race He can't get with me spittin' this shit wickedly lyckety-shot - A spick-a-spickety, Split-Lickety - Oh, no, no! I'm gonna turn around with a smile and walk my white ass back across 8 Mile [Hooting, Yelling] Oh-h! Oh, oh! Say no mo'! That's what I'm talkin' about! It's unanimous! Bunny Rabbit goes to the next round! And Lyckety... Tell yo' mama I'll be over later.
8 Mile
[Bass, Drums] Oh, look! Oh, he's takin' his shirt off. Come on, smack this cat, all right? [Lotto] Fuck this coward, dawg. Free World's in the motherfuckin'house. What's goin'on, baby? Yo, it's time to get rid of this coward here once and for all. I'm sick of this motherfucker. [Man] Rip it, Lotto. Rip it, baby, rip it.! Yeah.! [Growls, Clears Throat] Yo, I spit a racial slur Honky, sue me This shit is a Harlem flick But the black guy doesn't die in this movie - [Cheering] - Fuckin'with Lotto, dawg You got to be kiddin' That makes me believe you really don't have a interest in livin' You think these niggas gonna feel the shit you say I got a better chance joinin' the K.K.K. Know some real shit, though I like you... that's why I didn't want to be the one You commit suicide to Fuck Lotto Call me your leader I feel bad that I got to murder that dude from Leave It To Beaver [Cheering] I used to like that show Now you got me in fight back mode But oh well, if you got to go You got to go I hate to do this I would love for this shit to last So I'll take pictures of my rear end so you won't forget my ass And all is well that ends okay So I'll end this shit with a "Fuck you, but have a nice day"
8 Mile
Ward, I think you were a little hard on the Beaver So was Eddie Haskell Wally and Ms. Cleaver Who-oa! This guy keeps screamin' He's paranoid Quick, someone get his ass another steroid Blah-de-bee-bee, blah blah Blah-be-dee, blooh blah I didn't hear a word you said Hippity-hoo blah Is that a tank top Or a new bra Look, Snoop Dogg has got a fuckin' boob job Didn't you listen to the last round, meathead Pay attention - You're sayin' the same shit that he said - I'm gonna fuck you up! Matter of fact, dawg, here's a pencil Go home, write some shit Make it suspenseful And don't come back until somethin' dope hit you Fuck it, you could take the mike home with you [Crowd] Whoa.! Lookin' like a cyclone hit you Tank top's screamin' "Lotto, I don't fit you" You see how far Them white jokes get you, boys like "How's Vanilla Ice gonna dis you" My motto, fuck Lotto I'll get the seven digits from yo'mother for a dollar tomorrow - [Cheering] - [Future] Oh! O-Oh! Oh, oh, oh!
8 Mile