Fuck happy music and the same people that make it You're like the music version of the Lance Armstrong bracelet For hard long faces I'ma bastardize the beat Make you feel like you ate acid by the sheet Really fast for 90 weeks I grab the fuckin raptor by its beak And pry it open like I'm hoping that by stranglin a bird The little notions that are painfully absurd And pokin, gratin on my nerves Are broken when I choke it's appetite to eat Point a rapper out that's telling you he raps hard And I'ma lock his ass up in a cellar in my backyard And I'ma kick his ass every day Every forty-five minutes Til the Kansas City Royals win a pendant I guess you're just coincidentally hopeless And that's the reason that I took your demo disc and broke it So before you compare me to Eminem or Slug Please show a little bit of love! Pitchfork Media reviews? (Fuck 'em!) Christian conservative psychos? (Fuck 'em!) Sean Hannity and Ann Coulter? (Fuck 'em!) Black Clover, bitch, here to take care of the public (What up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) You muthafuckers think it's time to go home? (Oh hell no!) What up! I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) You muthafuckers think it's time to go home? (Oh hell no!) What up! This is dedicated to the rappers in the battlin outfits You never fucked my girlfriend, quit rappin about it I slap the diapers off your dipshit fan base And teach you how to never give a limp wrist handshake VH1 called me and told me that there's a white rapper reality show and that I need to be on it Now I don't know what the hell that implied But I told VH1 "Y'all can eat shit and die!" I'm not an entity, I'm an enterprise I'm the interplanetary solar system beaming in the skies I'm the Enter the Wu-tang song that got cut I'm the Enter the Dragon, Mr Hahn's house, serving fried duck I'm an intervention for you, and no one showed up Your Interscope Records after Rhymesayers blows up! Your intermural-fucking-soccer at a Catholic girl's school You suck at life, you're not cool If somebody disses Kansas City (Fuck 'em!) If somebody disses my man Approach (Fuck 'em!) If they don't think Seven is a genius (Fuck 'em!) And they diss Doomtree I'll take a knife and cut 'em! (What up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) You muthafuckers think it's time to go home? (Oh hell no!) What up! I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) You muthafuckers think it's time to go home? (Oh hell no!) What up! The rhythm's out front, to pick me up Now shut, the fizzy fuck up, punk You interrupt, muthafuck The gritty grub on your disc, it's shitty stuff I insist It really sucks, it was free I listened once I was skippin songs, then I got pissed and started skipping stones Then I skipped lunch and found you and started chippin bones I was skippin grades to elevate my common sense You were dumb enough to underestimate my awesome-ness! Ousted the now-debted style-threaded backpackers Sounded like grout-headed gat snappers Clap at these ingrate bastardized mix tape rapper cast Bitch face savage Mac's gunning for the title So flash my symbol in the sky and I'll stab every single instrumental you supply Three times Rhymesayers had the best of the year Now get the fuck away from me and go fetch me a beer For anybody dissin Tech N9ne (Fuck 'em!) For anybody dissin Atmosphere (Fuck 'em!) Those girls don't like DJ Sku (Fuck 'em!) And if you see Joe Good tell him I still love him! Thanks to V Balayan
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Copy to Clipboard: Fuck happy music and the same people that make it You're like the music version of the Lance Armstrong bracelet For hard long faces I'ma bastardize the beat Make you feel like you ate acid by the sheet Really fast for 90 weeks I grab the fuckin raptor by its beak And pry it open like I'm hoping that by stranglin a bird The little notions that are painfully absurd And pokin, gratin on my nerves Are broken when I choke it's appetite to eat Point a rapper out that's telling you he raps hard And I'ma lock his ass up in a cellar in my backyard And I'ma kick his ass every day Every forty-five minutes Til the Kansas City Royals win a pendant I guess you're just coincidentally hopeless And that's the reason that I took your demo disc and broke it So before you compare me to Eminem or Slug Please show a little bit of love! Pitchfork Media reviews? (Fuck 'em!) Christian conservative psychos? (Fuck 'em!) Sean Hannity and Ann Coulter? (Fuck 'em!) Black Clover, bitch, here to take care of the public (What up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) You muthafuckers think it's time to go home? (Oh hell no!) What up! I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) You muthafuckers think it's time to go home? (Oh hell no!) What up! This is dedicated to the rappers in the battlin outfits You never fucked my girlfriend, quit rappin about it I slap the diapers off your dipshit fan base And teach you how to never give a limp wrist handshake VH1 called me and told me that there's a white rapper reality show and that I need to be on it Now I don't know what the hell that implied But I told VH1 "Y'all can eat shit and die!" I'm not an entity, I'm an enterprise I'm the interplanetary solar system beaming in the skies I'm the Enter the Wu-tang song that got cut I'm the Enter the Dragon, Mr Hahn's house, serving fried duck I'm an intervention for you, and no one showed up Your Interscope Records after Rhymesayers blows up! Your intermural-fucking-soccer at a Catholic girl's school You suck at life, you're not cool If somebody disses Kansas City (Fuck 'em!) If somebody disses my man Approach (Fuck 'em!) If they don't think Seven is a genius (Fuck 'em!) And they diss Doomtree I'll take a knife and cut 'em! (What up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) You muthafuckers think it's time to go home? (Oh hell no!) What up! I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) I gotta throw another mean jab, baby (what up!) You muthafuckers think it's time to go home? (Oh hell no!) What up! The rhythm's out front, to pick me up Now shut, the fizzy fuck up, punk You interrupt, muthafuck The gritty grub on your disc, it's shitty stuff I insist It really sucks, it was free I listened once I was skippin songs, then I got pissed and started skipping stones Then I skipped lunch and found you and started chippin bones I was skippin grades to elevate my common sense You were dumb enough to underestimate my awesome-ness! Ousted the now-debted style-threaded backpackers Sounded like grout-headed gat snappers Clap at these ingrate bastardized mix tape rapper cast Bitch face savage Mac's gunning for the title So flash my symbol in the sky and I'll stab every single instrumental you supply Three times Rhymesayers had the best of the year Now get the fuck away from me and go fetch me a beer For anybody dissin Tech N9ne (Fuck 'em!) For anybody dissin Atmosphere (Fuck 'em!) Those girls don't like DJ Sku (Fuck 'em!) And if you see Joe Good tell him I still love him! Thanks to V Balayan
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