What did i hurt your feelings like i'm supposed to be scared right? yo, i'd like to dedicate this song to Mr. Marshall Mather's mother, yeah, here's one for your moms
Here come the mighty the one they call whitey all you sons of whitey are all bitch writers son won't that bitch slim shady please act up get smacked up, get ya eyes blacked up with your candy ass name your a candy ass rapper i'll smack you up, shut you off like the clapper whoever said you was raw son they lied i know that shit i spit on Dilated hurt your pride, screamin on a record how you wish i died, but you don't want to see me on this physical side you just a fake tough guy, tryin to act hard but you won't walk the lobby without your bodyguard you aint pullin my card you aindt ridin' a train back in the day kds like you got robbed for they chain step to me like a man with the hands, get slained as a matter of fact when you see me, give me some brain yo it's like that, you wanna fight jack lets put the mics down you'll catch a beat down i get love in new york, i got fam in LA and i heard you might be the MC that's gay with your platinum blonde ceasar you look like a hoe like M and M stand for Marilyn Monroe talkin bout killin sprees you aint like that yo makin lots of enemies but thats all for show you punk ecstacy junkie you waste of skills stop ridin my heels stay high on pills boy i hope you OD don't be playin with me little bitch need to watch what you sayin to me talking shit for shock value boy you aint real turned hard the day Dre gave you a record deal you went and sold your soul for some mass appeal servin up that hor's doerve kid now eat this meal instead of worryin about who you should be dissin you need to worry about who your wifey be kissin hopin you go to prison while you doin your bid i'll look in on your old lady and do things for your kids make them write you lots of letters bout the things that we did send you pictures of me chillin all up in your crib and that shit about sway and tech that was a fib first tim e you seen me i showed you love in DC but you were scared like a bitch with your eyes on the floor while your crew showed me love outside the front door talkin bout yo whats up aint you whitey ford i love that song what it's like and that jam praise the lord i don't do this for the money yo i do it for fun you might hang around some gangstas but you aint the one and you won't be slappin me with no empty gun talkin bout a fag but you the one in drag and you can't keep your woman from going astray better run and check your kid for your DNA i take care of my moms you get sued by yours with your corny metaphors bout drugs and crack whores your a sucker word up for real you wanna talk shit for money come talk it with the hands B i aint wastin no more time with you man fuck that shit that's it...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
