Die motherfuckers, die motherfuckers,
die
Cause I'm sick of the weak -ass shit
you've been sayin'
I'm sick of the weak -ass shit
you've been playin'
Make me wanna shoot my radio out
But I won't do such,
because it costs too much
But what I will do is give
you something brand new
For the DJs, MCs and fans too
Some say I'm not Marvin
But look around,
count how many heads of Bobby
I heard your new song on the radio,
hated that shit
Cause it sounded like a demo,
now if you're so pro black punk bitch
Stop getting them white
boys to mix your shit
You get a nigga like crazy, see
And your shit won't sound so sloppy
I know you hate what I said
But if you run up,
I'll put a gun upside your fuckin' head
Cause homeboy, I don't love ya
You get your mama or somebody else
to feel sorry for ya
Put your rhymes in a casket, dig a bed
Bury your head, cause that shit's dead
I needed something that was holdin'
So I called New Orleans
And caught up with Roland
He said he had a boy who
could play the piano
His name was Goldfinger
So this ain't a sample
Dick Holt made the bassline groove
He got paid to sign with Sticky Move
So you better find some new ideas
And stay the fuck away from here
Now, tell your so -called su
per dope producers
You need to stop fucking with losers
And get yourself some juice
Call yourself a producer,
but ain't never
Side -steppin' like a penguin,
this ain't ringlin'
So you and your crew can
suck a mean one
Old school beats get ruined,
cause motherfuckers like you
be puttin' weak -ass rhymes to them
I can't duck cause your
bass don't boom,
your drums don't kick
and your horns are out of tune
Make a nigga just lose respect,
push that B -check
and snatch your shit out the tape deck
Cause your lyrics are way out,
you should have stayed out
Before Traxton played out
Your production is booty broke,
save enough money
So you can work out of the studio
Then practice on your vocals
And stop acting like you're universal
when you're local
So take your wack -ass style,
your wack -ass songs
Your wack -ass girl
and take your wack -ass home
Yeah, this goes out to all you wanna be,
ain't never gonna be shit rappers
on the local scene
acting like y 'all lack jealous ass
Ain't paid no motherfuckin' dues,
ain't sold
No motherfuckin' records
But runnin' around with t
-shirts with your name on
Yeah, you hoes better try
to be friends with me
Watch that bitch,
she'll get you weeks
Die motherfuckers,
die motherfuckers, die
Die motherfuckers,
die motherfuckers, die
Die motherfuckers, die motherfuckers, die
Die motherfuckers,
die motherfuckers, die
Die motherfuckers, die motherfuckers, die
Die motherfuckers, die motherfuckers, die
Die motherfuckers, die motherfuckers, die
Die
Hey! Turn that shit down!