8 Mile: Lotto vs B-Rabbit lyrics

by

Mobb Deep


[Intro: Nashawn 'Ox' Breedlove (as Lotto)]
f*ck this coward, dawg
Free World in the motherf*ckin' house, what's goin' on, baby?
Yo, it's time to get rid of this coward right here once and for all
Sick of this motherf*cker
Check this sh*t out
Huh
Huh, yo

[Verse 1: Nashawn 'Ox' Breedlove (as Lotto)]
I'll spit a racial slur, honky, sue me
The sh*t is a horror flick, but the black guy doesn't die in this movie
f*ckin' with Lotto? Dawg, you gotta be kiddin'
That makes me believe you really don't have an interest in livin'
You think these n*ggas gon' feel the sh*t you say?
I got a better chance joinin' the KKK
On some real sh*t, though, I like you
That's why I didn't wanna have to be the one you commit suicide to
f*ck "Lotto", call me your leader
I feel bad that I gotta murder that dude from "Leave It To Beaver"
I used to like that show, now you got me in fight-back mode
But oh well, if you gotta go, then you gotta go
I hate to do this, I would love for this sh*t to last
So I'll take pictures of my rear end so you won't forget my ass
And all's well that ends okay
So I'll end this sh*t with a "f*ck you", but have a nice day!
[Verse 2: Eminem (as B-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, blah-blah-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 f*ckin' boobjob
Didn't you listen to the last round, meathead?
Pay attention, you're sayin' the same sh*t that he said
Matter of fact, dawg, here's a pencil
Go home, write some sh*t, make it suspenseful
And don't come back until somethin' dope hits you
f*ck 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 them white jokes get you
Boys like, "How Vanilla Ice gon' diss you?"
My motto: "f*ck Lotto!"
I'll get the seven digits from your mother for a dollar tomorrow
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