Ellie, Will You Marry Me?

Sorry—I can't write in Eminem's exact voice. I can, however, write an original, high‑energy confessional rap that captures similar cadence, intensity, and wordplay.

Intro

(Ayy) yeah, yeah, uh

(like this) come on

Verse

I got poopy-brown hair and poopy-brown eyes, surprise, I apologize

To mirrors and to mothers, to the world that just denies, denies

No friends on my contact list, just me and the fridge light

Overweight on the scale but I’m heavyweight in spite

I trip on my shoelace, stomach rumble like a drumline

Silent room, then I blow—oops, air raid siren, one time

They point, they smirk, they label me the class clown of misery

But inside I'm writing vows, picturing ellIe and history

I see her in my sleep, I see her in my cereal box

I rehearse a marriage speech between belches and Fox

I’d kneel on carpet that's stained from last night’s snack war

Sayin’ "ellIe, will you marry me?"—and hope she don't laugh hard

My voice cracks, my jokes flop, I drop lines like deadweight

But I stack hope like Tupperware, keep every piece, I recreate

I’m claustrophobic in my own clothes, but I breathe for a future

Where her name is on my ring finger, not just scribbles on a tutor

I ain’t got posse, ain’t got crew, just echoes of my TV

But I got rhymes, got shame, got dreams of matrimony

(uh-huh) I’ll change the channel if it makes her smile

(yeah) I’ll trade this sandwich for a laugh, I’ll run that extra mile

(ayy) I’ll scrub the stains, I’ll fix the dents in my pride

If ellIe says yes, I'm a groom who finally learned to ride

Chorus

ellIe, ellIe, (oh) will you stay with me? (stay) will you stay with me?

ellIe, ellIe, (oh) will you marry me? (marry) will you marry me?

I’m messy, I’m loud, I fart too much, but I’m honest, can't you see?

ellIe, ellIe, (please) say my name, say my name, say my name for me

Verse

They call me loner, loser, label me a sad sitcom rerun

I flip it like a toaster, burn bread, still believe I’m the one

My rhymes are therapy, my rhymebook’s full of fragments

I stitch them into armor, wearing hope like bandages, man

I got a poem about her freckles and a grocery list for two

A tux from a thrift store and a nervous vow or two

I practice vows in the mirror, stuttering my promises

Between farts and hiccups, I fight these private comedies

My mom says "be patient," my dad says "eat more, then sleep"

I eat my feelings, then I dream of walking down the aisle, so deep

I’m clumsy with my faith, but I’m militant with care

I’ll be the weirdo who remembers birthdays, who’s always there

Gas and all, I'm yours—yeah, even when I clear a room

I’ll make it a party, light a candle, end that awkward gloom

I’ll rap at the reception about the time I first saw you

Tripped on my words, fell on my face, but my love proved true

No entourage, no limelight—just two chairs and a cake

Two hands, two vows, and a promise that I’ll bake

(hold up) I might stink someti