Whitey`s Revenge Lyrics

Whitey`s Revenge lyrics

What did i hurt your feelings
like i'm supposed to be scared right?
yo,
i'd like to dedicate this song to Mr. Marshall Mather's mother, yeah, here's
one for your moms

Here come the mighty
the one they call
whitey
all you sons of whitey
are all bitch writers
son won't that
bitch slim shady please act up
get smacked up, get ya eyes blacked
up
with your candy ass name
your a candy ass rapper
i'll smack you
up,
shut you off like the clapper
whoever said you was raw son they
lied
i know that shit i spit on Dilated hurt your pride,
screamin on a
record how you wish i died, but you don't want to see me on this physical
side
you just a fake tough guy, tryin to act hard
but you won't walk the
lobby without your bodyguard
you aint pullin my card
you aindt ridin' a
train
back in the day kds like you got robbed for they chain
step to me
like a man with the hands, get slained
as a matter of fact when you see me,
give me some brain
yo it's like that, you wanna fight jack
lets put the
mics down you'll catch a beat down
i get love in new york, i got fam in
LA
and i heard you might be the MC that's gay
with your platinum blonde
ceasar you look like a hoe
like M and M stand for Marilyn Monroe
talkin
bout killin sprees you aint like that yo
makin lots of enemies but thats all
for show
you punk ecstacy junkie
you waste of skills
stop ridin my
heels
stay high on pills
boy i hope you OD
don't be playin with
me
little bitch need to watch what you sayin to me
talking shit for shock
value
boy you aint real
turned hard the day Dre gave you a record
deal
you went and sold your soul for some mass appeal
servin up that
hor's doerve kid now eat this meal
instead of worryin about who you should
be dissin
you need to worry about who your wifey be kissin
hopin you go
to prison while you doin your bid
i'll look in on your old lady and do
things for your kids
make them write you lots of letters bout the things
that we did
send you pictures of me chillin all up in your crib
and that
shit about sway and tech that was a fib
first tim e you seen me i showed you
love in DC but you were scared like a bitch with your eyes on the floor
while
your crew showed me love outside the front door
talkin bout yo whats up aint
you whitey ford
i love that song what it's like and that jam praise the
lord
i don't do this for the money yo i do it for fun
you might hang
around some gangstas but you aint the one
and you won't be slappin me with
no empty gun
talkin bout a fag
but you the one in drag
and you can't
keep your woman from going astray
better run and check your kid for your
DNA
i take care of my moms you get sued by yours
with your corny
metaphors bout drugs and crack whores
your a sucker
word up for
real
you wanna talk shit for money
come talk it with the hands B
i
aint wastin no more time with you man fuck that shit that's it...