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This mothafucka, man!
Just don't shut up, will you?
Talkin' bout I owe you
Bitch, you owe me
I'm promotin' you right now
Yo, let's put the nail in his coffin
I don't wanna be like this
I don't really wanna hurt no feelings
But I'm only being real when I say
Nobody wants to hear their grandfather rap
And old men have heart attacks
And I don't wanna be responsible for that
Yo, put the mic down and walk away
You can still have a little bit of dignity
I would never claim to be no
Ray Benzino
An 83-year-old fake Pagino
So how can he hold me over some balcony
Without throwin' his lower back out
As soon as he goes to lift me?
Please don't, you'll probably fall with me
And our asses'll both be history
But then again, you finally get your wish
As you be all over the street like 50 Cent
You fuckin' drunk pussy, fuck you Trump
Give me a one-on-one, see if I don't fuck you up
Try to jump the Rough Riders and they cut you up
And you put Jada on a track
That's how much you suck, diggin' the industry
I swear that you in the streets hustlin'
You sit behind a fuckin' desk at the source
Butt kissin' and beggin' motherfuckers
For guest appearances
And you can't even get the clearances
Cause real lyricists don't even respect you
Or take you serious
It's not that we don't like you, we hate you, period
Talk about a midlife crisis, damn
Last week you was shakin' Obie Dreis' hand
Now he's a buster?
What the fuck's with that?
Get on a track, dissin' us, kissin' 50's ass
And askin' me what I know about indictments
Bite me, bitch, I got two cases
And probation, fight me
What do I know about standin' in front of a judge
Like a man ready to take whatever sentence he has?
What you know about your wife slicin' her wrist
Right in front of the only thing that you have in this world?
A little girl, and I put that on her
When this is all over
I would never try to make her a star and eat off her
I don't know shit about no shoppin' rocks
But what you know about it?
Pop shops, rockin' spots
Where you're the only white boy up in that bitch that's grippin'
Pressin' up your own flyers and your stickers
Stickin' them bitches up after spendin' six hours at Kinko's
Makin' copies of your covers of cassette singles
To sell them out of the trunk of your tracer
Spendin' your whole paychecks at disc makers
What you know about bein' bullied over half your life?
Oh that's right
You should know what that's like
You're half white
Vanilla ice, Philippines and rice
I'm eatin' you alive inside
Jesus Christ
If you're that much of a gangster
Put the mic down
You should be out killin' motherfuckers right now
Kill a motherfucker dead
Kill him dead, bitch
Shoot him in the fuckin' head
Go ahead, bitch
Slap my mom
Slap the fuck out of her
She can't sue you
She wouldn't get a buck out of you
Cause you're broke as fuck
You suck
You're a fuckin' joke
If you was really sellin' coke
Well then what the fuck you stop for, dummy?
If you slew some crack
You'd make a lot more money than you do from rap
You'll never have no security
You'll never be famous
You'll never know what it's like to be rich
Life's a bitch, ain't it, Raymond?
Here, let me break this shit down in layman's terms for you
Just to make sure that you can understand
There's some candidates
They usin' too many complicated fuckin' words for you
Here, let me slow it down for you
So that you can understand if I say it slower
Let it go, dawg, it's over
I don't wanna be like this
I don't really wanna hurt no feelings
But I'm only bein' real when I say
Nobody wants to hear their grandfather rap
You know men have heart attacks
And I don't wanna be responsible for that
So put the mic down and walk away
You can still have a little bit of dignity
Talkin' bout
I had motherfuckers callin' your crib
Bitch, you ain't even got a fuckin' crib
You ain't even got a fuckin' phone
Fuckin' bum
Gretna
Shut me down at your lil' fuckin' source magazine
If I come back when you wanna attack you
Bitch, you attack me first
Take it like a man and shut the fuck up
And fuck your lil' magazine too
I don't need your lil' fuckin' magazine
I got double XL's number anyways
And y'all can't stand it
Cause they gettin' bigger than y'all
Oh
And by the way
How'd I look on the VMAs?
When you was watchin' me from
Whatever fuckin' TV you was watchin' me from
In Boston
The mean streets of Boston
Fuckin' sissy
And you gotta stand up in your motherfuckin'
Sucker motherfuckin' kicks
Oh
And for those that don't know
Don't get it twisted
The source has a white owner
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