Lyrics
You want this battle, huh? So you a rapper now? Oh, okay
Here we go again
Prepare to meet your end
Just looked you up of facebook you have 0 friends
This kid's a loser yo he ain't even kissed a girl
You write her love letters, I buy her ice and pearls
So how you like me now
Even Roxanne's in the backround saying wow Bling's got style
I'm off the gold chain
If you're a rapper why is Kris your back up dancer like an extra on soul train
I see your mommy and your daddy in the front row
They must be embarrassed for you bro
You're not a real MC
You should quit hip hop
Now be a good bus boy and go get your mop
Bling, you don't wanna battle
You're the snake without the rattle
You're the boat without the paddle
You're the duck without the waddle
You're the horse without the saddle
The ranch without the cattle
The day without the shadow
Son, I think you should skedaddle
Kick gravel, sayonara punk arrivederci
What language do I have to say it in for you to hear me clearly
Adios amigo, you're over with finito
This clown couldn't rap anything but my burrito
Kid, you have to hold your mommy's hand before you cross the street
You have to sneak out the house just to clean and sweep
And now you look queasy
I made him go mute
Put your camera phones up so you can post this on youtube
Truth's got a screw loose, he's terrified to bus
So lightweight that I could blow him over with a gust
You're weak like seven days, you deserve boos
You should walk around in some high heel shoes, ha
You should rock pigtails and a skirt
You're shaking in your boots, are your feelings getting hurt
Ooh well, maybe I should hurt more than your feelings
Maybe I should rip the roof off the theater ceiling
Maybe you should start kneeling his eyes are getting misty
Your so whack if you were me you couldn't diss me
Kissy kissy Roxanne did you miss me
I'll take you out to dinner after I've eaten this pip squeak
And when were on vacation I'll let him house sit
Here's a couple bucks buy yourself a better outfit
You know what?
You don't have a stack of cash you're a flashy pad
I saw you last week driving the taxi cab
Your secret's out, and now they know sport
We'll call you if we need a ride to an airport
In fact, you can drop me off at home after this
Then you can take your couple bucks back, but as a tip
You're playing yourself like solitaire
Telling everyone that's here that you're a millionaire
You're not a baller, you're a phony
I bet your whole crew is a bunch of rent-a-homies
And now you lie in bed lonely
Your persona's a fade
The only girls you get are in the pages of a catalog
Here stands lord of the bluff
His lies were legendary til the truth made him hush
And what's funny is your truth is enough
Why'd you have to make up all the money and the stuff
I guess it's easier to play the role and act hard
'Cause you don't have the guts to tell us who you really are
So you can keep a trophy that you don't deserve
I might be a busboy
But you just got served!
WRITERS
TIM JAMES, ADAM SCHMALHOLZ, ANTONINA ARMATO, THOMAS STURGES, JON VELLA
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, O/B/O DistroKid, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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