What?
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Did I hurt your feelings?
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Uh...I'm supposed to be scared now, right?
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Yo...I'd like to dedicate this record right here
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To Mr. Marshall Mathers' mother, yeah
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This one's for your moms
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Here come the mighty
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One they call Whitey
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All you sons of Whitey
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Are all dickbiters
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So won't the bitch Slim Shady please act up?
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Get smacked up
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Get your eyes blacked up
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With your candy-ass name you're a candy-ass rapper
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I'll smack you up, shut you off like the Clapper
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Whoever said you was raw, son, they lied
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I know that shit I spit on Dialated hurt your pride
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Screamin' on a record how you wish I died
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But you don't wanna see me on this physical side
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You're just a big tough guy, tryin' to act hard
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But you won't walk a lobby without your bodyguard
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You ain't pullin' my card, you ain't ridin' the train
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Back in the day, kids like you got robbed for they chain
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Step to me like a man, with the hands, and get slain
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Matter of fact, when you see me bitch, gimme some brain
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Yo, it's like that, we could fight, Jack
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Let's put the mics down, you'll catch a beatdown
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I get love in New York, got fam in L.A.
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And I heard you might be the MC that's gay
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With your platinum blonde Caesar, you look like a ho
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Like M and M stands for Marilyn Monroe
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Talkin' 'bout killin' sprees, you ain't like that, yo
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Makin' lots of enemies, but that's all for show
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You punk ecstasy junkie, you waste of skills
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Stop ridin' my dill, stay high on pills
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Yo, I hope you OD, don't be playin' with me
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Little bitch need to watch what you're sayin' to me
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Talkin' shit for shock value, boy, you ain't real
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Turned hard the day Dre gave you a record deal
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You went and sold your soul for some mass appeal
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Servin' up that hors d'oeuvre, kid, now eat this meal
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Instead of worryin' about who you should be dissin'
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You need to worry about who your wifey been kissin'
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Or if you go to prison while you're doin' your bid
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I'll look in on your lady and do things for your kid
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Make her write you lots of letters about the things that we did
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And send you pictures of me chillin' all up in your crib
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That shit about Sway n' Tek? That was a fib
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First time you met me I showed you love in D.C.
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But you were scared like a pussy with your eyes on the floor
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While your crew showed me love outside the front door
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Talkin' 'bout "Yo, whassup, ain't you Whitey Ford?
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I love that song 'What It's Like' and that jam 'Praise the Lord'"
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I don't do this for the money, yo, I do it for fun
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You might hang around some gangstas, but you ain't one
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And you won't be slappin' me with no empty gun
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Talkin' 'bout a fag but you a one in drag
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And you can't keep your woman from goin' astray
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Better run and check your kid for your DNA
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I take care of my moms, you get sued by yours
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With your corny metaphors about drugs and crack whores
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You're a sucker
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Word up, for real
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You wanna talk some shit money, come talkin' with the hands, B
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I ain't wastin' no more time with you, man, fuck that shit, that's it
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-----------------
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Whitey's Revenge (The Eminem Diss)
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Everlast |