| Marshall
|
| We still waitin'
|
| Now we gotta pray for him (Haha)
|
| (It's incredible)
|
| Lord, forgive us I know that it’s kinda wrong
|
| For five brothers this talented to be on one song (Facts)
|
| But that white boy, he is nice (He is)
|
| But he crossed the black man, Lord Jesus Christ (He gotta go)
|
| We gon' pray for him (Uh), and move Hailie out the way when we spray cans
|
| We don’t shoot kids and women (Nah), we shootin' amen (Amen)
|
| Look, that double entendre kinda heavily (It was)
|
| Damn, Em', what you like five minutes away from seventy? |
| (Oh man, hah)
|
| Oops, I meant forty-seven (Ah)
|
| Send him to Hell if he bored of Heaven (Bored of Heaven)
|
| Strappin' the dynamite, word to Floyd and Evans (Good times)
|
| I get to gripin' the Glock, he better call a reverend (Raah)
|
| And give Eminem falls and knock him out his Jordan 7's (Woo)
|
| Oh, you got your own sneakers? |
| That’s okay (That's wassup)
|
| Well, to let you know, them Wild’n Out out Jordans is on the way (Facts)
|
| Nah, I ain’t do this verse for the fame or the clout (Not at all)
|
| I did this verse to say keep my brother name out your mouth (Ah, incredible)
|
| I mean at this point it’s bullyin', 'cause I know he ain’t gon' clap back
|
| So I don’t be dealin' with these rap cats
|
| I’m the best and that’s that
|
| Put that on everything, get my CashApp
|
| A bunch of red rags and black 'Lacs
|
| Incredible, they catch me with this, I’m goin' federal
|
| I’ve been a star, your favorite actress wanna get sexual
|
| You’ve been afraid, Em', this ain’t that renegade, Em
|
| Where you ain’t purp’d up, you sweeter than lemonade, Em'
|
| Black Squad, you won’t link with them
|
| See, you tried to bully P! |
| nk and them
|
| Britney Spears and NSYNC and them
|
| And got the beefin' with Ja Rule with the cops behind you
|
| And every show since '04, you’ve had to swat behind you
|
| Man, y’all find a all-time great in a small town lake
|
| I hawk 'em down with the K
|
| Don’t you got a cash flow? |
| What the fuck you mad for?
|
| Subtract you, add a casket, that’s the aftermath, ho, Holla
|
| Hi Slim, let’s kill it with all the chit-chat
|
| Eminem, but you get the sticks, now that’s a Kit Kat (Kat)
|
| So, wait, dammit, you mad that you ain’t Cannon
|
| All them pills, you stay crammin' still givin' you brain damage (B-B-Brain
|
| damage)
|
| Your guilty conscious told you, you was the man and all
|
| But now you just a circus act, 'cause you stay up on cannonballs (Balls)
|
| You always hide in your trailer, we know you big mad (Mad)
|
| Get your bitch to run in our lap like this is gym class (Woo)
|
| 'Cause all my niggas just stand up like Sinbad
|
| Big Mac in the can that get rid of slim fast (Blah)
|
| Instead of stayin' in the booth to get your rhymin' out
|
| It’s season 15, here’s your invite to Wild’n Out
|
| Ain’t no bad-doin', 'cause all of my troops thorough (Thorough)
|
| Ain’t got no bitch, Glock Nina, my new girl (off on her)
|
| I’m sick of all my homies keep dyin', might puke Earl (Eugh)
|
| God should’ve took Em' and just let us keep Juice WRLD
|
| Look, Nick, my brother, you dissed him, that gotta suffer
|
| I told him, «Don't diss you back, let us handle this motherfucker»
|
| Look, I scratched the serial number off of the baby llama
|
| Em' ain’t seen a ratchet this dirty since his baby-mama
|
| Goddamn, y’all niggas ain’t had to do him like that
|
| Shit, we don’t do it, we over-do it
|
| You play fucked up games, win fucked up prizes
|
| All this cocaine out here, and you wanna put your nose in my business
|
| Told you, I ain’t had to rap on this motherfucker
|
| You know what? |
| I’m not gon' rap
|
| I’ma just do what you did, haha
|
| You used to be in a position to talk to kids and they listen
|
| Now you a politician? |
| You voted for Trump, bitch, admit it (Ha)
|
| They used to call you a menace and that shoe fit you wore (Not no more)
|
| But now you gettin' facelifts like a Instagram-whore (Yoy bitch)
|
| Used to be the king of the world, Ludacris, lucrative lyrics
|
| Now all you do is just growl
|
| Like you got tourettes and the sterics
|
| Maybe it’s your mommy issues (Haha)
|
| Maybe your white devilish spirit (You the devil)
|
| He made the original music that your fans used to cherish
|
| Now you’re debated, disputed, hated
|
| And viewed in America as a motherfuckin' drug addict (Bitch)
|
| You’ll never be a legend (Marshall)
|
| Em', you should really start to stare at who’s in the mirror
|
| Look at all the fuckin' botox, bitch, I know you’re embarrassed (Hahaha)
|
| Fuck all the tricks and the gimmicks
|
| You like the new white supremacist
|
| Say the same fuckin' sentences
|
| Nigga, you ain’t no lyricist
|
| Lam, blam, flam, flam, take Xans and train xans
|
| I bet you never thought the kill shot will come from the cannon, blaow
|
| You used to be a renegade
|
| «Ayy, no one did it, Nick Cannon was gonna start wildin' out on me,
|
| wildin' out on me»
|
| (It's incredible) |