Ever wonder who the real Slim Shady is? Look no further than Eminem’s rhyme book. One of music’s greatest lyricists has lived a unique hip-hop upbringing—Hollywood even made a movie (loosely) based on his come up. But in search of the real story, we sifted through nearly two decades of Em’s lyrics—even Infinite!—to piece together a complete autobiography. Read up, and be sure to click each highlighted line for the source of Eminem’s quotes. Now, let’s get down to business…

PROLOGUE: MY NAME IS…

I almost died. They said they found me on the bathroom floor. Technically, I’m not even really supposed to be here right now. Guess I’m lucky. Some of us don’t get a second chance.

No one knew I was going through growing pains. Hatred was flowing through my veins, having ups and downs, dilly-dallying around with the idea of ending this shit. I guess I just forgot who the fuck I was. I’m a fighter.

What if I would not have made it through? I think about the things I would’ve never got to say to you. So let me self-empower you with my story. Read my lyrics as I discuss my lows and my highs, my demise and my uprise. My name is Marshall Mathers. This is my story and can’t nobody tell it for me.

CHAPTER I: HAZARDOUS YOUTH (1972-1988)

Journey with me as I take you through this nifty little place I once used to call home sweet home, from the Kansas City projects to this 8 Mile Road trailer park in Detroit. Lemme tell you the whole story of Shady’s origin. I was born to brew up storms. Since birth, I’ve been cursed. Ever since the day I was born, nearly 44 years ago, I was very deprived. I’ll take you back to ‘73. It all started with my father. He left my momma, Debbie Mathers, when I was just a little baby boy, maybe I was just a couple of months. My momma used to tell me my daddy was an evil man. She used to tell me he hated me. So I never asked where the fuck my deadbeat dad was.

I grew up in a wild hood, as a hazardous youth with a fucked up childhood that I used as an excuse. I was a kid who refused to respect adults, a corny looking white boy, scrawny and always ornery, ‘cause I was always sick of brawny bullies picking on me. D'Angelo Bailey—everyday he’d shove me into lockers. Therefore, I was hiding off in the corner somewhere quiet, trying not to be noticed ’cause I’m crying and sobbin'.

Put yourself in my position. Just try to envision, witnessin' your momma poppin' prescription pills in the kitchen, bitchin' that someone’s always going through her purse and shit’s missin', going through public housing systems, victim of Münchausen’s Syndrome. Mother did drugs, hard liquor, cigarettes and speed. That’s just the way she was.

“Try to envision witnessin' your momma poppin' prescription pills in the kitchen.”

My adolescent years weren’t shit. Just shy and awkward, since age 12. They said I never knew which way I was going. I used to be the type of kid that would always think the sky is fallin'. Why am I so differently wired? Am I a martian? Felt like I don’t belong in this world. Class clown, scoffin' at authority. Noncompliant at home and at school like “Fuck the next lesson! I’ll pass the test guessin'.” My English teacher wanted to flunk me in junior high.

At the same time, I was introduced to Kim Scott, about the time I first met Proof. Sometimes I’d hitchhike to meet Kim. Had to walk back to her mama’s on Chalmers after dark to sneak me in the house when I’m kicked out my mom’s. Fell in love. I thought it would be from junior high until we both die.

High school—my teachers went to lower all my grades. I’ll never make it averaging a D+. What you expect? I changed schools every three months until the third time that I failed 9th grade.

CHAPTER II: YELLOW BRICK ROAD (1989-1995)

I said N-I-G-G-A, when I was a teenager. Back in ‘89, me and Kim broke up for the first time. She was tryna two-time me, and there was this black girl at our school who thought I was cool. I was supposed to dump her, but she dumped me for this black guy. And that’s the last I ever spoke to the “Oh Foolish Pride” girl. I’ve heard people say they heard the racist tape and it ain’t that bad, but it was. I singled out a whole race and for that apologize. I was wrong.

Outside of that, them rhymes I’ve been jottin', they are kind of giving me confidence. Who woulda knew from the moment I turned the mic on that I could be iconic in my conquest? That’s why I ain’t have to graduate from Lincoln High School. I could rap, so fuck school. Gimme the mic, show me where the fuckin' studio’s at.

Two years later, when Uncle Ronnie died, my mom said she wished it was me. Proof was right by my side. I’m suffering and grievin'. My life is full of empty promises and broken dreams. I come home every single day from working double shifts. I feel discouraged, hungry and malnourished. How am I ‘posed to be positive when I don’t see shit positive?

“Kim wrapped the Christmas presents up and stuck ‘em under the tree and said some of 'em were from me. I sat up the whole night cryin’. Felt like a bum.”

For the next few years, I’m standing on corners and porches just rappin', jacking lives of MCs. People get in my face and ask if I wanna battle. I battle with success, strapped with a pen. I do what I have to to win. I’m still struggling hard to be the man, and it’s tough. Tired of not having a deal. Tired of all this player-hating that’s going on in my own city. Can’t get no airplay. Trying to get rich. I got a baby on the way, I don’t even got a car. I’m tired of being broke. Financial interest is the matter at hand. But I don’t panic and huff, frantic and puff, or plan to give up.

Then my baby daughter Hailie was born. Her feet ain’t got no shoes or socks on ‘em. Minimum wage got my adrenaline caged. Full of venom and rage, especially when I’m engaged and my daughter’s down to her last diaper.

Kim wrapped the Christmas presents up and stuck ‘em under the tree and said some of 'em were from me. I’ll never forget that Christmas, I sat up the whole night cryin’. Felt like a bum. It seemed like everything was just starting to fall apart.

CHAPTER III: ROLE MODEL (1996-1999)

I dropped Infinite for the ‘96. I was underground. They laughed. Said I’m way too soft and I sound like AZ and Nas. Had to change my style. No labels wanted to sign me. Almost gave up. I was like, “Fuck it.” Now he’s back. He’s turned into a beast. It’s that Sound Bombing fresh and authentic flow. New Slim Shady EP’s got the attention of the mighty D.R.E. Went to California and met Dr. Dre. I'ma be what I set out to be, without a doubt, undoubtedly.

I was signed to Aftermath. Now there he goes in Dre’s studio cupping his balls, screaming the wood off the paneling, cussing the paint off the walls. Wasn’t ready to be no millionaire. I was ill-prepared. I was prepared to be ill though, the skill was there.

From the day the song called, ‘’Hi! My Name Is’’ dropped: Shady-mania. Imagine going from being a no one to seeing everything blow up. And all you did was just grow up emceeing. Nobody ever gave a fuck before. All they did was doubt me. Blown up now, to rap phenomenon.

“Now there he goes in Dre’s studio cupping his balls, screaming the wood off the paneling, cussing the paint off the walls.”

Spoke to a generation of angry teenagers. I related to the struggles of young America. When their fucking parents were unaware of their troubles. I never woulda dreamed in a million years I’d see so many motherfuckin' people who feel like me. I’m the one they can relate to and look up to better. A bunch of little kids wanna swear just like me. Became a commodity because I’m W-H-I-T-E. MTV was so friendly to me.

Look at my sales. Let’s do the math: if I was black, I woulda sold half. They connected with me too because I looked like them. In the beginning, a few of the people who had a problem I was this good scoffed. Probably reminded you of the first time you saw Tiger Woods golf. Never thought about how much my race and nationality meant. But based on how I ascended, see how plain it was now.

I’m just a fucking romantic. Married to Kim. When it’s going good, it’s going great. I’m Superman with the wind at his back, she’s Lois Lane. High off her love. Maybe our relationship isn’t as crazy as it seems. Maybe that’s what happens when a tornado meets a volcano. All I know is I love you too much to walk away.

CHAPTER IV: LOSE YOURSELF (2000-2002)

The Mathers LP done went diamond—that’s life altering. It’s like, every day I wake up, another drama. For every million I make, another relative sues. My fucking bitch mom’s suing for 10 million. You can all sue me. Rap sensation Eminem battles to ward off accusations. It’s fucking crazy, ‘cause all I wanted was to give Hailie the life I never had. I had to adopt Whitney and Alaina too, my daughters.

It’s a disgrace. Hailie can’t play with her toys in the front yard, without you drivin' by, honkin' your horn. At least have the decency to leave me alone when you freaks see me out in the streets when I’m eating or feeding my daughter to not come and speak to me. No one ever puts a grasp on the fact I’ve sacrificed everything I have. I never dreamt I’d get to the level that I’m at. This is wack, this is more than I ever could’ve asked.

Critics crucify you, journalists try to burn you, fans turn on you, attorneys all want a turn at you to get they hands on every dime you have. People say that I’m a bad influence. I say the world’s already fucked, I’m just addin' to it. I’ve been protested and demonstrated against, picket signs for my wicked rhymes. They say I cause extensive psychological nerve damage to the brain. I say you’re all just too God damned sensitive. It’s censorship and it’s downright blasphemous.

I guess words can be great or they can degrade, or even worse, they can teach hate, and these kids hang on every single statement we make. Maybe it’s hatred I spew, maybe it’s food for the spirit, maybe it’s beautiful music. But tempers flaring from parents. I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t let Hailie listen to me neither.

“I never dreamt I’d get to the level that I’m at. This is wack, this is more than I ever could’ve asked.”

Baby-momma drama. I just got in a feud in some parking lot with a dude over Kim, and she just slit both of her wrists over this shit. Now, I know we said things, did things, that we didn’t mean. And we fall back into the same patterns, same routines. But your temper’s just as bad as mine is. You’re the same as me.

I thought I was tough enough to stick it out with Kim, but I wasn’t tough enough to juggle two things at once. I found myself laying on my knees in cuffs, which should’ve been a reason enough for me to just leave. How come I couldn’t see this shit myself? The minute shit was heated she just bailed. I’m divorcing you: Go marry someone else.

I done figured this rap shit out. I map shit out strategically. Timing is everything and that seems to be the key to my success, it’s worked for me repeatedly. The Eminem Show: multi-platinum.

Off to work I go, to this 8 Mile movie. There’s Mekhi Phifer. I got an Oscar attached to my fucking name. How the fuck he got an Oscar?

I’m also an entrepreneur, who’s helped launch a few more rap acts. Shady Records you better believe the hype is real. Dirty Dozen, we represent the 313. G-Unit and Obie, we all move like assassins. When me and Fif' got together to do this music, we just developed a fellowship through it. It’s no pretend shit, it’s friendship.

CHAPTER V: TIL I COLLAPSE (2003-2008)

All of this controversy circles me. Going toe to toe with a Benzino. Threatening to shut me down at fucking Source magazine. One of the ways I came up, was through that publication. Now the owner of it has got a grudge against me for nothin'? Well, fuck it, that mothafucka could get it too, fuck him!

We inherited 50’s beef with Murder Inc. We actually tried to stop the 50 and Ja beef from happenin', me and Dre had sat with him and asked him not to start it, he wasn’t gonna go after him until Ja started yappin' in magazines how he stabbed him. I heard him say Hailie’s name on a song and I just lost it. Fuck it, 50, smash him! Ain’t got no more targets, shit Irv and Jeff, we done beat em to death. Benzino went deaf. Can-I-Bitch don’t want no beef with Slim, no!

Encore, I was on drugs. Drug sickness got me doing some bugged twitches. I struggle with this shit every single day. I’ve swallowed all I could. If I could swallow a bottle of Tylenol I would. Now I’m popping Vics, Percs, and Methadone pills. Falling asleep with writer’s block in the parking lot of McDonald’s. I lock myself in the bedroom/bathroom, napping at noon. Dad’s in a bad mood, he’s always snapping at you. You can’t stop with these pills? And you’ve fallen off with your skills. Fucking drug dealers hang around me like yes men.

“I’m popping Vics, Percs, and Methadone pills. Falling asleep with writer’s block in the parking lot of McDonald’s.”

I’m just so fucking depressed. My brain’s dusted, I’m disgusted at all my habits. Too many aspirin tablets, empty medicine cabinets, slowly dying, health is declining, crying out for help. Marshall, you’re no longer the man. That’s a bitter pill to swallow. All I know is I’m wallowing, self-loathing and hollow. Bottoms up on the pill bottle. I am finally realizing I need help, I can’t do it myself, too weak.

I want you, to understand something. I just lost my fucking best friend: Proof. We was always brothers. Never thought about each other’s skin colors. “Doody” – that’s what we’d call each other. Proof isn’t here to see me through it. I’m in the booth, poppin' another pill. Homie I know I’m never gonna be the same without you. I’m going insane without you.

I’m starting to live like a recluse, at an all-time low. I feel like just hit the rock bottom. I ain’t slowing down for no one, I am almost in a coma. “Daddy, don’t you die on me; Daddy, better hold your ground!” Fuck, don’t I know the sound of that voice? Wake up in the hospital, full of tubes. But somehow I’m pulling through. Swear when I come back I'ma be bulletproof. I'ma do it just for Proof. Not many are lucky enough to have a guardian angel like you. I love you Doody. Rest in peace.

CHAPTER VI: RAP GOD (2009-2013)

Let’s be honest, that Relapse CD was “eh”. Perhaps I ran them accents into the ground. Relax, I ain’t going back to that now. Fuck my last CD, the shit’s in my trash. I got something to prove to fans cause I feel like I let ‘em down. It’s different, them last two albums didn’t count. Starting today and tomorrow’s anew.

It was my decision to get clean, I did it for me. Admittedly I probably did it subliminally for you. So I could come back a brand new me, to focus solely on handling my responsibilities as a father. Shit I ain’t even suppose to be here. By the grace of God, I skated by. I’m alive again, more alive than I have been in my whole entire life. If Proof could see me now, I know he’d be proud.

Shady 2.0. This is what happens when Bad meets Evil. Royce, he came up in the shit with me. I just turned Slaughterhouse to a quintet. Yelawolf, White Dawg. My crew’s true and divine.

“Did I take it too far with ‘Cleanin’ Out My Closet' and all them other songs? I’m sorry momma.”

Here’s a sequel to my Mathers LP. I went in headfirst, never thinking about who what I said hurt. My mom probably got it the worst. Did I take it too far with “Cleanin' Out My Closet” and all them other songs? I’m sorry momma, I never meant to hurt you. Regardless I don’t hate you. I realized you were sick and it wasn’t fixable or changeable and to this day we remain estranged and I hate it ‘cause you ain’t even get to witness your grandbabies grow. I forgive you. I love you. You’re still beautiful to me, ‘cause you’re my mom.

And I still love Kim. That’ll never change. Think about her every day, we just could never get it together. Wish there was a better way for me to say it. But I swear on everything, I’d do anything for her on any day. Wish there wasn’t any pain, but I can’t pretend there ain’t.

In the meantime, I’ll probably never get the props I feel I ever deserve. I’m showing you the flow no one do. I deserve respect. Top 5 in this mothafucka. My respect is overdue. I’ve done my best to give you nothing less than perfectness. But when they say one of the best, I’m nowhere thought of as that. People think I’m a little bit crazy. I may be a little too fast paced and racy. I say so many rhymes, it may seem like I’m goin too fast. And I could give a fuck what category you place me. Long as you place me amongst one of them greats. When I hit the heavenly gates, I’ll be cool beside Jay-Z, a Rap God, a G.O.A.T.

CHAPTER VII: KINGS NEVER DIE (2014-2016)

My songs can make you cry, take you by surprise, at the same time, can make you dry your eyes with the same rhyme; what you’re seeing is a genius at work. I’m thankful for the talent in which God gave me. And I’m thankful for the environment that he placed me, in the neighborhood daily, they jumped and chased me. It only made me what I am today.

I’ve calmed down now, I was heavy once into drugs. I look at my life in a new light. It just breaks my heart to look at all the pain I caused. Pray to God, I open enough eyes later on and gave you the supplies and the tools to hopefully use that’ll make you strong. Enough to lift yourself up, when you feel like I felt. You need peace of mind? Here’s a piece of mine.

So this is for every kid who all’s they ever did was dreamt of one day just getting accepted. That’s why we sing for these kids who don’t have a thing, except for a dream and a fucking rap magazine. For anyone who’s ever been through shit in they lives so they sit and they cry at night, wishing they’d die. I represent him or her, anyone similar. You are the reason that I made this.

I just wanna leave this game with level head intact. If I ever do die a sudden death, just carry on, don’t mourn, rejoice every time you hear the sound of my voice. Just know that I’m looking down on you smiling.

Good night everyone. Thank you for coming.