Whitey's Revenge

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...