[Marv Won]
Yo, yo, y'all ready for d**h? Y'all ready for d**h?
Marv Won, the Fat k**er
The game done got ugly, let's go, yo, yo
I seen your type before, you think you're tough
Battle you? b**h, you lucky I don't beat you up
In a game of fisticuffs, I'll push your face back
You can't f** with me, man, really, just face facts
It's him verses me, in a battle of ten rounds
It's like Muggsy Bogues tryin' to f** with Jim Brown
Dumb f**, I'm the type to run amok
Come in the club drunk as f**
Slap your b**h so we can buck
One hook... type of a man the size of Dan Dierdorf
Tryin' to take his ear off, like Mike Tyse
I'm quite nice on fight nights
And why he poppin' sh**? I thought he liked life
Apparently not, I'm incoherently hot
And if I miss you then your parents get shot
Yo, I'm a bad boy, b**h, it's on
I'll put 44's on your chest, like you're Rick Mahorn
[B-Rabbit]
Hold on, f*ggot, let me turn this mic on
Don't think for a minute I'm gon' let you
Get away with that song
That sh** was wack, you ain't spittin'
As a matter of fact, all of that sh** was written
And I know it wasn't for me
Surely, you really must adore me
Now, look it… yo, you might as well move to Italy
Look, this guy's ripped...*skkkrr* – literally
You don't wanna really f** wit this
On this microphone, I'm not Snuffleupagus
But I don't give a f**, you can keep that dull rap
And turn your a** back around with your f**in' skullcap
And your bandana or your motherf**in' sweatband
f**in' with this style, you're a dead man
I ain't Redman, but on this mic, yo, I pick it up
Just like your face when I had to rip it up
You don't wanna see me, yo, uh