[Intro: Machine Gun Kelly & Sammi Giancola] (Oh my God, RONNY) Ayy
[Verse 1] Somebody grab him some clippers (Zzt), his fuckin’ beard is weird Tough talk from a rapper payin’ millions for security a year “I think my dad’s gone—” (Ah!), yeah, Hailie, you right Dad’s always mad cooped up in the studio, yellin’ at the mic You sober and bored, huh? (I know) ‘Bout to be forty-six years old, dog Talkin’ ’bout “I’ma call up Trick Trick,” man, you sound like a bitch, bitch Man up and handle your shit (Ugh) Mad about somethin’ I said in 2012, took you six years and a surprise album just to come with a diss? (Huh) Homie, we get it, we know that you’re the greatest rapper alive Fuckin’ dweeb, all you do is read the dictionary and stay inside Fuck “Rap God”, I’m the Rap Devil Comin’ bare-faced with a black shovel Like the Armageddon when the smoke settle His body next to this instrumental, I’m sayin’
[Chorus] I’m sick of them sweatsuits, and them corny hats, let’s talk about it I’m sick of you bein’ rich, and you still mad, let’s talk about it Both of us single dads from the Midwest, we can talk about it Or we could get gully, I’ll size up your body and put some white chalk around it (Ayy)
[Verse 2] Let’s talk about the fact you actually blackballed a rapper that’s twice as young as you (Let’s talk about it) Let’s call Sway, ask why I can’t go up to Shade 45 because of you (Brrt) Let’s ask Interscope how you had Paul Rosenberg tryin’ to shelf me (Huh?) Still can’t cover up the fact your last four albums is bad as your selfie Now tell me, what do you stand for? (What?) I know you can’t stand yourself (True) Tryna be the old you so bad, you stan yourself (Ha) Let’s leave all the beefin’ to 50 (Please), Em, you’re pushin’ fifty Why you claimin’ that I’ma call Puff when you the one that called Diddy? (Facts) Then you went and called Jimmy (Facts), they conference-called me in the mornin’ (What?) They told me you mad about a tweet, you wanted me to say sorry (What?) I swear to God, I ain’t believe him (Nah), please say it ain’t so (No) The big bad bully of the rap game can’t take a fuckin’ joke Oh, you want some fuckin’ smoke (What?) But not literally, you’ll choke Yeah, I’ll acknowledge you’re the GOAT But I’m The Gunner, bitch, I got you in the scope (Brrah) Don’t have a heart attack now (Uh), somebody help your mans up (Help) Knees weak of old age, the real Slim Shady can’t stand up
[Chorus] I’m sick of them sweatsuits, and them corny hats, let’s talk about it (Let’s talk) I’m sick of you bein’ rich, and you still mad, let’s talk about it (Let’s talk) Both of us single dads from the Midwest, we can talk about it (Uh-huh) Or we could get gully, I’ll size up your body and put some white chalk around it
[Verse 3] Hello, Marshall, my name’s Colson, you should go back to Recovery (Phew) I know your ego is hurtin’, just knowin’ that all of your fans discovered me (Hi) He like, “Damn, he a younger me, ‘cept he dresses better and I’m ugly, always makin’ fun of me” Stop all the thuggery, Marshall, you livin’ in luxury (Ayy) Look what you done to me, dropped an album just because of me, damn, you in love with me You got money, but I’m hungry, I like the diss, but you won’t say them lyrics out in front of me Shout-out to every rapper that’s up under me, know that I’ll never do you like this fuckery Still bitter after everyone loves you, pull that wedgie out your dungarees (Ayy) I gotta respect the OGs, and I know most of ’em personally (Ayy) But you’re just a bully actin’ like a baby, so I gotta read you a nursery (Pussy) I’m the ghost of the future, and you’re just Ebenezer Scrooge (Eh) I said on Flex, “Anyone could get it”, I ain’t know it would be you
[Chorus] I’m sick of them sweatsuits, and them corny hats, let’s talk about it (Let’s talk) I’m sick of you bein’ rich, and you still mad, let’s talk about it (Let’s talk) Both of us single dads from the Midwest, we can talk about it (Uh-huh) Or we could get gully, I’ll size up your body and put some white chalk around it
[Bridge: Machine Gun Kelly & Sammi Giancola] Ayy, ridin’ shotty ’cause I gotta roll this dope It’s a fast road (When your idols become your rivals), yeah Never hesitate to say it to your face I’m an asshole (Oh my God, RONNY) Bitch-ass motherfuck; Kells
[Verse 4] We know you get nervous, Rabbit, I see Mama’s spaghetti all over your sweater I wish you would lose yourself on the records that you made a decade ago, they were better Accordin’ to them, you’re a national treasure, to me, you’re as soft as a feather The type to be scared to ask Rihanna for her number, just hold her umbrella-ella-ella “I’m not afr—,” okay, Oscar the Grouch, chill on the couch (Fuck) You got a Oscar, damn, can anyone else get some food in their mouth? (For real) They made a movie about you, you’re in everybody’s top ten You’re not getting better with time, it’s fine, Eminem, put down the pen Or write an apology over the simple fact you had to diss to acknowledge me I am the prodigy, how could I even look up to you? You ain’t as tall as me 5’8″ and I’m 6’4″, seven punches, hold your head still Last time you saw 8 Mile was at home on a treadmill You were named after a candy, I was named after a gangster (Brr) And don’t be a sucker and take my verse off of Yelawolf’s album, thank you (Thank you) I just wanna feed my daughter, you tryna stop the money to support her You the one always talkin’ ’bout the action, text me the addy, I’m pullin’ up scrappin’ And I’m by my fuckin’ self, what’s happenin’? EST Captain, salute me or shoot me That’s what he’s gonna have to do to me when he realizes that there ain’t shit he could do to me Everybody always hated me, this isn’t anything new to me Yeah, there’s a difference between us, I got all of my shit without Dre producin’ me (Ayy) I know you’re not used to me, usually one of your disses should ruin me But, bitch, I’m from Cleveland, everybody quiet this evenin’, I’m readin’ the eulogy (Shh) You dropped an album called Kamikaze, so that means he killed him I already fucked one rapper’s girl this week, don’t make me call Kim
[Chorus] I’m sick of them sweatsuits, and them corny hats, let’s talk about it (Let’s talk) I’m sick of you bein’ rich, and you still mad, let’s talk about it (Let’s talk) Both of us single dads from the Midwest, we can talk about it (Uh-huh) Or we could get gully, I’ll size up your body and put some white chalk around it
