1997 rap olympics
I'ma tell you this for your own benefit
Your shit was dope as hell, 'specially when you wrote ninety-percent of it
What you need to do is practice on your freestyles
'Fore you come up missin', like Snoop Dogg's police files
This type of literature that I'm spittin' be hittin'
You gonna swear to God this shit was written
But it wasn't, I'll kill a dozen rappers when I'm buzzin'
Guzzlin', beat your ass like a jealous husband
Now, you boys are about to suffer and see north
When you go in a coma longer than Vladimir Konstantinov
Cut the damn machine off
Get a clean cloth, and wipe this bloody video screen off
I'm movin' in for the kill, plus I got the trap set
I can tell you're wack as fuck, and I ain't even hear you rap yet
Look at you thinkin', "I'm about to whip his ass
‘Cause I'ma do some written shit, plus I get to go last."
Well, guess what? Even if I go first, it's no worse
My shit's still gon' demolish yo' verse
I'm 'bout to slice you like a Ginsu
And anything you say can and will be used against you
In a court of law, I'm short and raw
Take your fuckin' shit and cut it off
Yo, you wanna be a dope emcee?
Look, don't get mad and start takin' your period out on me
You wanna represent on the microphone, but you rap sleazily
I ain't about to battle this fake ass Eazy-E
There ain't no way I'ma do this bullshit
I don't give a fuck, I'm loaded up with a full clip
Time of the month? You couldn't get the tape of the day
Take him away, I rip him like a paper mache
I heard you rap before, you ain't about shit
This whole battle was mismatched, like your outfit
Try to battle me and get your mouth split
You sold out, like Ticketmaster Outlet
Ha ha, I bust and I crush
I don't give a fuck, ain't no way that you can fuck with us
I'm givin' back with pimp shit
I laminate that ass in a badge and wear it at the Rap Olympics
Blah-badee-blah-da-blah-blah—stop babblin'!
You so fuckin' wack I'ma walk away while you battlin'
Fuck that, I'm on a brand new solo mission
To make sure that Wendy Day kicks your ass out of the rap coalition
I throw a switch at an execution
With an overdose of devotion
Don't talk back, I'm the dope, bitch
So who you sound like on the mic?
There was only one 2Pac, your thug style is just one big sike
Take a big hike, bitch, you can't catch me
Your best rhymes still ain't shit, like a patsy
What the fuck you gonna do?
I'll battle anybody in your crew
And I don't give a fuck, I slaughter boys
Especially wack-ass emcees that will wear a fake-ass corduroy
I'm 'bout to make this mic short circuit
This beat is wack as fuck—this shit fits you perfect!
I got so many ways to diss you that I'm playful with you
I'll let a razor slit you, 'til they have to staple-stitch you
And everybody in this fuckin' place'll miss you
If you try to turn my facial tissue to a racial issue
Nobody's hearin' you, you're a wack liar
Damn! All your white jokes just backfired
‘Cause, bitch, you barkin' up the wrong tree
Now go tell all your boys that you was beat by a honkey
I don't give a fuck, I'll kill ya
Bitch, you better recognize me, like I look familiar
Anything you say, I'ma kill ya
Grill ya, when I fuckin' drill ya
I'm Marsh, but you're the one that's mellow