Evidence - Search for Bobby Fischer (Eminem Diss) lyrics
[Evidence - Search for Bobby Fischer Eminem Diss lyrics]
Search For Bobby Fischer
Yo it's like this man
Every once in a while when motherfuckers
Pop off at the lip
Somebody get brought into this shit
That don't have nuttin to do
With this shit right? But none the less
You wanna start lettin off buckshots
Cats gotta retaliate
Y'all callin out Ev? Well you got him
Yo, a blonde fag took my
Kindness for a weakness
But instead of comin hard threw a weak diss
Twelve of his friends at
First I was speechless is it cause you lack
Pussy or lack uniqueness?
It's always your type
Itchy and quick to bust off
Ruin the party, "Soliloquy of Chaos"
And this verse is jumpin' jacks
A little warm up there'll be no bullshit
There'll be no hit chorus
Diss my crew? Yo, you won't go far
The truth is I'm about as much
From Detroit as you are
I'm rackin up points, shit cat I'm scorin
You ain't a true tiger, liar, you from Warren
A trailer trash town where daddy
Stuck it to ya
That's why you hate your mother cause
She never tried to stop it
Twenty years later you're still out of luck
I met this chick you took home on tour
But couldn't get it up
Alert! Alert! You internet geeks
Eminem is just like you
Weak between the sheets
Dr evil, tryin to steal my mojo
I'll fuck you up, plus look better in photos
I know what it is, you envy what you hate
I'm what you used to be
You was me in ninety-eight
Hungry for props, and ready to rock
Except your stage show is so weak
You always just READY to rot
Fuck your pace walkin fours at best
(at) that rate on tour dates
Hope you never run out of breath
It's such a shame your
Uncle Ronnie's not listed
I'm a geek? You jock Fred from Limp Bizkit
Production time I heard you're makin beats
But don't program the drums
Don't program the keys
Don't program the bass, producer? Liar!
Doin that shit's like hirin a ghostwriter
You might as well you little fake Chino XL
You're target practice - strictly
Blast these empty shells
Crowd roar It's an upset, you lose the title!
But first lose the haircut
You're bitin George Michael
Next topic, time to stick the knife in
Slaughter your Scratch
Ah fuck it throw your wife in
I'mma do 'em, do 'em 'til nothin left
The way I'm murderin you now
They probably avenge your death
You blond bitch, I'm about to rub it in
Go sell millions of records
You still don't own your publishin
You ain't hip-hop
You pop extra popular to little girls
Kids, and the Trenchcoat Mafia
So here it comes, a blast from my crew
You bout to get chopped by a man named Babu
The funniest part? Let me say
This 'fore I'm through
I haven't even begun to start
I saved the best for part two
Babu cuts and scratches these samples
"Faggot, no comp rapper on a quest"
"Hi!" "Bitch shut the fuck up!
"If you take offense fuck it
Got to be that way"
"I thought I oughta tell you
Better yet warn"
"Suckers get eliminated fuckin with
Dilated" -> Cypress Hill
"Nevertheless, I'll say it again" "BITCH!"
"Soundclash with us, you flirt with disaster"
"Trick or treat"
Yo it's like this man
Every once in a while when motherfuckers
Pop off at the lip
Somebody get brought into this shit
That don't have nuttin to do
With this shit right? But none the less
You wanna start lettin off buckshots
Cats gotta retaliate
Y'all callin out Ev? Well you got him
Yo, a blonde fag took my
Kindness for a weakness
But instead of comin hard threw a weak diss
Twelve of his friends at
First I was speechless is it cause you lack
Pussy or lack uniqueness?
It's always your type
Itchy and quick to bust off
Ruin the party, "Soliloquy of Chaos"
And this verse is jumpin' jacks
A little warm up there'll be no bullshit
There'll be no hit chorus
Diss my crew? Yo, you won't go far
The truth is I'm about as much
From Detroit as you are
I'm rackin up points, shit cat I'm scorin
You ain't a true tiger, liar, you from Warren
A trailer trash town where daddy
Stuck it to ya
That's why you hate your mother cause
She never tried to stop it
Twenty years later you're still out of luck
I met this chick you took home on tour
But couldn't get it up
Alert! Alert! You internet geeks
Eminem is just like you
Weak between the sheets
Dr evil, tryin to steal my mojo
I'll fuck you up, plus look better in photos
I know what it is, you envy what you hate
I'm what you used to be
You was me in ninety-eight
Hungry for props, and ready to rock
Except your stage show is so weak
You always just READY to rot
Fuck your pace walkin fours at best
(at) that rate on tour dates
Hope you never run out of breath
It's such a shame your
Uncle Ronnie's not listed
I'm a geek? You jock Fred from Limp Bizkit
Production time I heard you're makin beats
But don't program the drums
Don't program the keys
Don't program the bass, producer? Liar!
Doin that shit's like hirin a ghostwriter
You might as well you little fake Chino XL
You're target practice - strictly
Blast these empty shells
Crowd roar It's an upset, you lose the title!
But first lose the haircut
You're bitin George Michael
Next topic, time to stick the knife in
Slaughter your Scratch
Ah fuck it throw your wife in
I'mma do 'em, do 'em 'til nothin left
The way I'm murderin you now
They probably avenge your death
You blond bitch, I'm about to rub it in
Go sell millions of records
You still don't own your publishin
You ain't hip-hop
You pop extra popular to little girls
Kids, and the Trenchcoat Mafia
So here it comes, a blast from my crew
You bout to get chopped by a man named Babu
The funniest part? Let me say
This 'fore I'm through
I haven't even begun to start
I saved the best for part two
Babu cuts and scratches these samples
"Faggot, no comp rapper on a quest"
"Hi!" "Bitch shut the fuck up!
"If you take offense fuck it
Got to be that way"
"I thought I oughta tell you
Better yet warn"
"Suckers get eliminated fuckin with
Dilated" -> Cypress Hill
"Nevertheless, I'll say it again" "BITCH!"
"Soundclash with us, you flirt with disaster"
"Trick or treat"