Rap Devil Lyrics - Machine Gun Kelly

[Intro] 

Oh my god, Ronny 

[Verse 1] 

Ay, somebody grab him some clippers (zzzzt) 

His fuckin' beard is weird 

Tough talk from a rapper payin' millions for security a year 

"I think my dad's gone crazy," yeah, Hailie, you right 

Dad's always mad cooped up in the studio, yellin' at the mic 

You're sober and bored, huh? (I know) 

About to be 46 years old, dog 

Talkin' 'bout "I'ma call up Trick Trick" 

Man, you sound like a bitch, bitch 

Man up and handle your shit (ugh) 

Mad about somethin' I said in 2012 

Took you six years and a surprise album just to come with a diss 

Homie we get it, we know that you're the greatest rapper alive 

Fuckin' dweeb, all you do is read the dictionary and stay inside 

Fuck Rap God, I'm the Rap Devil 

Comin' bare-faced with a black shovel 

Like the Armageddon when the smoke settle 

His body next to this instrumental, I'm sayin' 

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[Chorus] 

I'm sick of them sweatsuits and them corny hats, let's talk about it 

I'm sick of you bein' rich and you still mad, let's talk about it 

Both of us single dads from the Midwest, we can talk about it 

Or we could get gully, I'll size up your body 

And put some white chalk around it 

[Verse 2] 

Let's talk about the fact you actually blackballed a rapper that's twice as young as you (let's talk about it) 

Let's call Sway, ask why I can't go on Shade 45 because of you (brrt) 

Let's ask Interscope how you had Paul Rosenberg tryin' to shelf me (huh?) 

Still can't cover up the fact your last four albums is as bad as your selfie 

Now tell me, what do you stand for? (what?) 

I know you can't stand yourself (no) 

Tryin' to be the old you so bad you Stan yourself (ha) 

Let's leave all the beefin' to 50 (please) 

Em, you're pushin' 50 

Why you claimin' that I'ma call Puff? 

When you the one that called Diddy (facts) 

Then you went and called Jimmy (facts) 

They conference called me in the morning (what?) 

They told me you mad about a tweet 

You wanted me to say sorry (what?) 

I swear to God I ain't believe him (nah) 

Please say it ain't so (no) 

The big bad bully of the rap game can't take a fuckin' joke 

Oh you want some fuckin' smoke (what?) 

But not literally, you'll choke 

Yeah I'll acknowledge you're the GOAT 

But I'm The Gunner, bitch, I got you in the scope (brra) 

Don't have a heart attack now (no) 

Somebody help your mans up (help) 

Knees weak of old age, the real Slim Shady can't stand up 

Photos 

[Chorus] 

I'm sick of them sweatsuits and them corny hats, let's talk about it 

I'm sick of you bein' rich and you still mad, let's talk about it 

Both of us single dads from the Midwest, we can talk about it 

Or we could get gully, I'll size up your body 

And put some white chalk around it 

[Verse 3] 

Hello Marshall, my name's Colson 

You should go back to Recovery 

I know your ego is hurtin' just knowin' that all of your fans discovered me (hi) 

He like, "Damn, he a younger me 

Except he dresses better and I'm ugly 

Always making fun of me." 

Stop all the thuggery, Marshall, you livin' in luxury (damn) 

Look what you done to me 

Dropped an album just because of me 

Damn, you in love with me! 

You got money but I'm hungry 

I like the diss but you won't say those lyrics out in front of me 

Shout out to every rapper that's up under me 

Know that I'll never do you like this fuckery 

Still bitter after everyone loves you 

Pull that wedgie out your dungarees (hey) 

I gotta respect the OGs and I know most of 'em personally (ayy) 

But you're just a bully actin' like a baby 

So I gotta read you a nursery (nursery) 

I'm the ghost of the future 

And you're just Ebenezer Scrooge (facts) 

I said on Flex anyone could get it 

I ain't know it would be you 

[Chorus] 

I'm sick of them sweatsuits and them corny hats, let's talk about it 

I'm sick of you bein' rich and you still mad, let's talk about it 

Both of us single dads from the Midwest, we can talk about it 

Or we could get gully, I'll size up your body 

And put some white chalk around it 

[Bridge] 

Ridin' shotty 'cause I gotta roll this dope 

It's a fast road when your idols become your rivals, yeah 

Never hesitate to say it to your face, I'm a asshole 

Bitch-ass motherfucker 

Oh my god, Ronny 

[Verse 4] 

We know you get nervous, Rabbit 

I see Momma's spaghetti all over your sweater 

I wish you would lose yourself on the records 

That you made a decade ago, they were better 

Accordin' to them, you're a national treasure 

To me, you're as soft as a feather 

The type to be scared to ask Rihanna for her number 

Just hold her umbrella-ella-ella 

"I'm not afraid," okay Oscar the Grouch, chill on the couch (fuck) 

You got an Oscar, damn 

Can anyone else get some food in their mouth? (For real) 

They made a movie about you, you're in everybody's top ten 

You're not getting better with time 

It's fine, Eminem, put down the pen 

Or write an apology 

About the simple fact you had to diss to acknowledge me 

I am the prodigy 

How could I even look up to you? You ain't as tall as me 

5'8" and I'm 6'4", seven punches hold your head still 

Last time you saw 8 Mile was at home on a treadmill 

You were named after a candy 

I was named after a gangster (brr) 

And don't be a sucker and take my verse off of Yelawolf's album, thank you (thank you) 

I just wanna feed my daughter 

You tried to stop the money to support her 

You the one always talkin' 'bout the action 

Text me the addy, I'm pullin' up scrappin' 

And I'm by fuckin' myself, what's happenin'? 

EST captain, salute me or shoot me 

That's what he's gonna have to do to me 

When he realizes there ain't shit he could do to me 

Everybody always hated me, this isn't anything new to me 

Yeah there's a difference between us 

I got all of my shit without Dre producin' me (ayy) 

I know you're not used to me 

Usually one of your disses should ruin me 

But bitch I'm from Cleveland 

Everybody quiet this evenin', I'm readin' the eulogy (shh) 

Dropped an album called Kamikaze, so that means he killed him 

Already fucked one rapper's girl this week, don't make me call Kim 

[Chorus] 

I'm sick of them sweatsuits and them corny hats, let's talk about it 

I'm sick of you bein' rich and you still mad, let's talk about it 

Both of us single dads from the Midwest, we can talk about it 

Or we could get gully, I'll size up your body 

And put some white chalk around it