8 mile marv won vs b rabbit
Yo, yo, y'all ready for death? Y'all ready for death?
Marv Won, the Fat Killer
The game done got ugly, let's go, yo, yo
I seen your type before, you think you're tough
Battle you? Bitch, you lucky I don't beat you up
In a game of fisticuffs, I'll push your face back
You can't fuck with me, man, really, just face facts
It's him versus me in a battle of ten rounds
It's like Muggsy Bogues tryin' to fuck with Jim Brown
Dumb fuck, I'm the type to run amok
Come in the club drunk as fuck
Slap your bitch so we can buck
One hook... type of a man the size of Dan Dierdorf
Tryin' to take his ear off, like Mike Tys
I'm quite nice on fight nights
And why he poppin' shit? Man, I thought he liked life
Apparently not, I'm incoherently hot
And if I miss you then your parents get shot
Yo, I'm a bad boy, bitch, it's on
I'll put 44's on your chest like you're Rick Mahorn
Hold on, faggot, let me turn this mic on
Don't think for a minute I'ma let you
Get away with that song
'Cause that shit was wack, you ain't spittin'
As a matter of fact, all of that shit was written
And I know it wasn't for me
Surely, you really must adore me
Now, look it… yo, you might as well move  to Italy
Look, this guy's ripped...*skkkrr* – literally
You don't wanna really fuck with this
On this microphone, I'm not Snuffleupagus
But I don't give a fuck, you can keep that dull rap
And turn your ass back around with your fuckin' skullcap
And your bandana or your motherfuckin' sweatband
Fuckin' with this style, you're a dead man
I ain't Redman, but on this mic, yo, I pick it up
Just like your face when I had to rip it up
You don't wanna see me, yo, uh