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Yeah, Yeah... Yeah, Yeah, Yeah
(What's your name?) Marshall
(Who's your daddy?) I don't have one
My mother reproduced like a komodo dragon
And had me on the back of a motorcycle
Then crashed in the side of
loco-motive with rap, I'm loco
It's like handing a psycho a loaded handgun
Michelangelo with a paint gun in a tantrum
About to explode all over the canvas
Back with the Yoda of rap in a spasm
(Your music usually has them)
(But waned for the game your enthusiasm it hasn't
Follow you must, Rick Rubin my little Padawan)
A Jedi in training, colossal brain and, thoughts of entertaining
But docile and impossible to explain and,
I'm also vain and
Probably find a way to complain about
a Pic***o painting
(puke) Skywalker, but sound like Chewbacca
when I talk
Full of such blind rage
I need a seeing eye dog
Can't even find the page,
I was writing this rhyme on, (oh..)
Its on a rampage, couldn't see what
I wrote I write small
(It says) Ever since I drove a
79 Lincoln with white walls
Had a fire in my heart,
and a dire desire to aspire, to DIE HARD
So as long as I'm on the clock punching
this time card
Hip hop ain't dying on my watch
But sometimes, when I’m sleeping,
she comes to me in my dreams
Is she taken? Is she mine?
Don’t got, I don’t care,
don’t have two ****s to give
Let me take you by the hand,
to promise land, and threaten everyone
Cause there’s no rhyme or no reason for nothing
Nah, (Whats your name?) Marshall
(Who’s your daddy?)
I don’t know him, but I wonder
(Is he rich like me?) Haha
(Has he taken, any time,
to show to show you what you need to live?)
NO
If he had,
he wouldn’t have ended up in
these rhymes on my pad
I wouldn’t be so mad,
my attitude wouldn’t be so bad, yeah, dad
Uh, The epitome and
the prime example of what happens
When the power of the rhyme
falls into the wrong hands, and
Makes you want to get up and start dancing
Even if it is Charles Manson who just happens,
To be rapping
Blue lights flashing, laughing
all the way to the bank
Lamping in my K-Mart mansion,
I’m in the style depar**ent
With a pile in my car, ripping the isle apart
With great power comes absolutely no responsiblity,
for content
Completely, despondent,
and conde-scen-ding
The king of nonsense and contro-versy in on,
a Beat killing spree, your honor, I must, plea
Guil-ty, cause I sparked a, Revolution
Rebel without a cause,
who caused the evolution of rap
To take it to the next level, boost it
But several rebuked it,
and whoever produced it…
(Hip hop is the devil's music)
Is that me? It belongs to me?
Cuz I just happen to be,
a white honky devil with two horns
That don't honk but every time
I speak you, hear a beep?
But lyrically I never hear a peep,
not even a whisper
Rappers better stay clear of me, *****
Cause its the…
It's the time of the season,
when hate runs high
And this time,
I won't give it to you easy
When I take back what's mine with pleasured hands
And torture everyone, that is my plan
My job here isn't done
Cause there's no rhyme
or no reason for nothing So
(What's your name?) Shady
(Who's your daddy?) I don’t give a ****,
but I wonder
(Is he rich like me?) Doubt it, ha
(Has he taken, any time,
to show you what you need to live?)
So yeah, Dad, let's walk
Let's have us a father and son talk
But I bet we wouldn't probably get one block
Without me knocking your block off,
this is all your fault
Maybe that's why I'm so bananas,
I a-ppealed to all those walks
Of life, Whoever had strife
Maybe that's what dad and son talks are like
Cause I, related to the struggles
Of young America when
their ****ing parents were unaware of their troubles
Now they're ripping out
their ****ing hair again, it's hysterical
I chuckle, as everybody bloodies their bare knuckles
Yeah uh-oh, better beware knuckle-
Heads, the sign of my hustle
Says knock
The doors broken, it won't lock
It might just fly open, get cold-cocked
You critics come to pay me a visit?
Misery loves company, please stay a minute
Kryptonite to a hypocrite, zip your lip
If you dish it but can't take it,
too busy getting
Stoned in your gl*** house,
to kick rocks, then you wonder why I lash out
Mr. Mathers as advertised on the flyers,
so spread the word cause
I'm promoting my p***ion until
I'm p***ed out
Completely brain dead, Rain Man
Doing the Bankhead in a restraint chair
So, *****, shoot me a look,
it better be a blank stare
Or get shanked in the pancreas,
I'm angrier
Than all eight other reindeer
Put together with Chief Keef cause
I hate every ****ing thing, yeah
Even this rhyme, *****,
and quit trying look for a
****ing reason for it that ain't there
But I still am a
Ten-year-old degenerate grabbing on my genitals
The last Mathers LP done went diamond,
this time I'm predicting this one will go emerald
When will the madness end, how can it when
There's no method to the pad and pen
The only message that I have to send
Is, Dad, I'm back at it again
Yeah... (Who's your daddy?)
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