Whitey's Revenge (the Eminem Diss) Lyrics - Everlast

What? 

Did I hurt your feelings? 

Uh...I'm supposed to be scared now, right? 

Yo...I'd like to dedicate this record right here 

To Mr. Marshall Mathers' mother, yeah 

This one's for your moms 

Here come the mighty 

One they call Whitey 

All you sons of Whitey 

Are all dickbiters 

So won't the real Slim Shady please act up? 

Get smacked up 

Get your eyes blacked up 

With your candy-ass name you're a candy-ass rapper 

I'll smack you up, shut you off like the Clapper 

Whoever said you was raw, son, they lied 

I know that shit I spit on Dialated hurt your pride 

Screamin' on a record how you wish I died 

But you don't wanna see me on this physical side 

You're just a big tough guy, tryin' to act hard 

But you won't walk a lobby without your bodyguard 

You ain't pullin' my card, you ain't ridin' the train 

Back in the day, kids like you got robbed for they chain 

Step to me like a man, with the hands, and get slain 

Matter of fact, when you see me bitch, gimme some brain 

Yo, it's like that, we could fight, Jack 

Let's put the mics down, you'll catch a beatdown 

I get love in New York, got fam in L.A. 

And I heard you might be the MC that's gay 

With your platinum blonde Caesar, you look like a ho 

Like M and M stands for Marilyn Monroe 

Talkin' 'bout killin' sprees, you ain't like that, yo 

Makin' lots of enemies, but that's all for show 

You punk ecstasy junkie, you waste of skills 

Stop ridin' my dill, stay high on pills 

Yo, I hope you OD, don't be playin' with me 

Little bitch need to watch what you're sayin' to me 

Talkin' shit for shock value, boy, you ain't real 

Turned hard the day Dre gave you a record deal 

You went and sold your soul for some mass appeal 

Servin' up that hors d'oeuvre, kid, now eat this meal 

Instead of worryin' about who you should be dissin' 

You need to worry about who your wifey been kissin' 

Or if you go to prison while you're doin' your bid 

I'll look in on your lady and do things for your kid 

Make her write you lots of letters about the things that we did 

And send you pictures of me chillin' all up in your crib 

That shit about Sway n' Tek? That was a fib 

First time you met me I showed you love in D.C. 

But you were scared like a pussy with your eyes on the floor 

While your crew showed me love outside the front door 

Talkin' 'bout "Yo, whassup, ain't you Whitey Ford? 

I love that song 'What It's Like' and that jam 'Praise the Lord'" 

I don't do this for the money, yo, I do it for fun 

You might hang around some gangstas, but you ain't one 

And you won't be slappin' me with no empty gun 

Talkin' 'bout a fag but you a one in drag 

And you can't keep your woman from goin' astray 

Better run and check your kid for your DNA 

I take care of my moms, you get sued by yours 

With your corny metaphors about drugs and crack whores 

You're a sucker 

Word up, for real 

You wanna talk some shit money, come talkin' with the hands, B 

I ain't wastin' no more time with you, man, fuck that shit, that's it