It's your turn, baby. 45 seconds. Let this motherfucker feel it! Alright, DJ, spin that shit! Come on, Rabbit! Don't choke this time. All right, look. Hey, yo This guy raps like his parents jerked him He sounds like Erick Sermon, the generic version This whole crowd looks suspicious
It's all dudes here, except for these bitches So I'm a German, eh? That's okay
You look like a fuckin' worm with braids These Leaders of the Free World rookies
Lookie, how can six dicks be pussies? Talkin' about 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, spitting this shit Wickedly lickety shot suspicious spickety split lickety Now I'm gonna turn around with a great smile
And walk my white ass back across 8 Mile You can't fuck with us. Come on, Rabbit! Ward, I think you were a little hard on the Beaver. So was Eddie Haskell, Wally, and Ms Cleaver This guy keeps screamin', he's paranoid
Quick, someone get his ass another steroid! "Blah-badi-boo-blah, bah-badi-bloo-blah!" I ain't hear a word you said: "Hippity hoopla!" Is that a tank-top or a new bra?
Look! Snoop Dogg just got a fuckin' boobjob 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 hits you Fuck it, you can take the mic home with you Lookin' like a cyclone hit you Tank-top screamin', "Lotto, I don't fit you!" You see how far the white jokes get you
Boys like, "How Vanilla Ice gon' diss you?" My motto: "Fuck Lotto!" I get the seven digits from your mother for a dollar tomorrow Now, everybody from the 313 Put your motherfucking hands up and follow me! Everybody from the 313
Put your motherfucking hands up! Look, look... Now, while he stands tough
Notice that 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, two Pac, three Pac, four Four Pac, three Pac, two Pac, one
You're Pac, he's Pac, no Pac, none This guy ain't no motherfucking MC I know everything he's 'bout to say against me I am white, I am a fucking 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 standing here screaming, "Fuck the Free World!" Don't ever try to judge me, dude
You don't know what the fuck I've 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 gangster? His real name's Clarence And Clarence lives at home with both parents
And Clarence parents have a real good marriage This guy don't wanna 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 fucking yearbook; fuck Cranbrook! [Music cuts out] Fuck a beat, I'll 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 fucking white trash, I say it proudly And fuck this battle, I don't wanna win, I'm outtie Here, tell these people something they don't know about me Papa Doc, what you gonna do? DJ! A minute and a half! Spin that shit! We got a new champion! B-Rabbit! Let's go. [Crowd chanting]: Fuck Free World! 313! [Crowd chanting]: B-Rabbit!
This shit gets me so Hype lmao