clashs de "8 mile" par ricolephilosophe pour: bizhonours.free.fr ^_^ Check this out, Check this out, Yo, This guy's a choke artist, You catch a bad one, you better off shootin' yourself with Papa Doc's handgun Climbin' up this mountain You're weak, I leave you lost without a paddle Floatin'up shit's creek You ain't Detroit, I'm the "D" You the new kid on the block 'bout to get smacked back to the boondocks Fuckin' Nazi Your squad ain't your type Take some real advice And form a group with Vanilla Ice And what I tell you You better use it This guy's a hillbilly This ain't Willie Nelson music Trailer trash, I'll choke you to your last breath And have you look foolish Like Cheddar Bob when he shot himself Silly Rabbit I know why they call you that 'Cause you follow Future Like he got carrots up his ass crack And when you acted up That's when you got jacked up and act stupid Like Tina Turner when she got smacked up I crack your shoulder blade You'll get dropped so hard That Elvis'll start turnin' in his grave Now I know why they left you out in the dark Take your white ass back across 8 Mile to the trailer park *** This guy raps like his parents jerked him He sounds like Erick Sermon The generic version This crowd looks suspicious It's all dudes in here Except for these bitches You want a German, eh That's okay, you look like a fuckin' worm with braids These Leadaz Of Tha Free World rookies Lookie How could six dicks be pussies ? Talkin'bout shit's creek Bitch, you could be up piss creek with paddles This deep You're still gonna sink You're a disgrace Yeah, they call me Rabbit This is a turtle race He can't get with me spittin' this shit wickedly lyckety-shot A spick-a-spickety, Split-Lickety I'm gonna turn around with a great smile and walk my white ass back across 8 Mile *** Yo, I spit a racial slur Honky, sue me This shit is a Harlem flick But the black guy doesn't die in this movie Fuckin'with Lotto, dawg You got to be kiddin' That makes me believe you really don't have a interest in livin' You think these niggas gonna feel the shit you say I got a better chance joinin' the KKK, Know some real shit, though I like you... that's why I didn't want to be the one You commit suicide to Fuck Lotto Call me your leader I feel bad that I got to murder that dude from Leave It To Beaver I used to like that show Now you got me in fight back mode But oh well, if you got to go You got to go I hate to do this I would love for this shit to last So I'll take pictures of my rear end so you won't forget my ass And all is well that ends okay So I'll end this shit with a "Fuck you, but have a nice day" *** Ward, I think you were a little hard on the Beaver So was Eddie Haskell Wally and Mrs Cleaver This guy keeps screamin' He's paranoid Quick, someone get his ass another steroid Blah-de-bee-bee, blah blah Blah-be-dee, blooh blah I didn't hear a word you said Hippity-hoo blah Is that a tank top Or a new bra Look, Snoop Dogg has got a fuckin' boob job Didn't you listen to the last round, meathead Pay attention You're sayin' the same shit that he said Matter of fact, dawg, here's a pencil Go home, write some shit Make it suspenseful And don't come back until somethin' dope hit you Fuck it, you could take the mike home with you Lookin' like a cyclone hit you Tank top's screamin' "Lotto, I don't fit you" You see how far Them white jokes get you, boys like "How's Vanilla Ice gonna dis you" My motto, fuck Lotto I'll get the seven digits from yo'mother for a dollar tomorrow *** Now, everybody from the 3-1-3 Put your motherfuckin' hands up and follow me Everybody from the 3-1-3 Put your motherfuckin' hands up Look, look Now while he stands tough Notice this man did not have his hands up This Free World's got you gassed up Now who's afraid of the big bad wolf ? One, two, three and to the four One Pac, 2Pac, 3Pac, four 4Pac, 3Pac, 2Pac, one You're Pac, he's Pac No Pac, none This guy ain't no motherfuckin' MC, I know everything he's got to say against me I am white, I am a fuckin' bum I do live in a trailer with my mom My boy Future is an Uncle Tom I do got a dumb friend named Cheddar Bob Who shoots himself in his leg with his own gun I did get jumped by all six of you chumps And Wink did fuck my girl I'm still standin' here screamin' "Fuck Tha Free World" Don't never try to judge me Dude, you don't know what the fuck I been through But I know something about you You went to Cranbrook That's a private school What's the matter, dawg You embarrassed This guy's a gangsta His real name's Clarence Clarence lives at home with both parents, Clarence's parents have a real good marriage He don't know how to battle He's shook 'Cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks He's scared to death He's scared to look At his fuckin'yearbook Fuck Cranbrook Fuck a beat, I go a cappella, Fuck a Papa Doc, Fuck a clock, Fuck a trailer, Fuck everybody Fuck y'all if you doubt me ! I'm a piece of fuckin' white trash, I say it proudly And fuck this battle, I don't want to win, I'm outtie Here, tell these people something they don't know about me. copyright 2003 bizhonours.free.fr