Fuck Jay-Z

What's up, ****?

Ayo, I know you ain't talkin' about me, dawg (You? What?)

Fuck Jay-Z

You been on my dick, ****

You love my style, **** (Uh, uh, uh, uh)

Fuck Jay-Z

(I) Fuck with your soul like ether

(Will) Teach you, the king, you know you

(Not) God's Son across the belly

(Lose) I'll prove you lost already (Uh)

Brace yourself for the main event, y'all impatiently waitin'

It's like a AIDS test, what's the results?

Not positive, who's the best, Pac, Nas and B.I.G.?

Ain't no best, east, west, north, south, flossed out

Greetings, I embrace y'all with napalm

Blows up, no guts left, chest, face gone

How could Nas be garbage? Semi-autos at your cartilage (Uh)

Burner at the side of your dome, come out of my throne

I got this locked since '91 (Uh), I am the truest

Name a rapper that I ain't influenced

Gave y'all chapters, but now I keep my eyes on the Judas

With Hawaiian Sophie fame, kept my name in his music, check it

(I) Fuck with your soul like ether

(Will) Teach you, the king, you know you

(Not) God's Son across the belly (Haha)

(Lose) I'll prove you lost already (Uh)

Ayo, pass me the weed (Tsk, there you go)

Put my ashes out on these ****, man (Ain't no doubt)

Ayo, you faggots, y'all kneel and kiss the motherfuckin' ring

(I) Fuck with your soul like ether

(Will) Teach you, the king, you know you

(Not) God's Son across the belly

(Lose) I'll prove you lost already

I've been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and forgotten

Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten

Y'all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (Uh)

Talk about me, laugh behind my back, but in my face

Y'all some well-wishin' (Bitch ****), friendly-actin', envy-hidin' snakes

With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take?

When these streets keep callin', heard it when I was sleep

That this Gay-Z and Cock-a-Fella Records wanted beef (What?)

Started cockin' up my weapon, slowly loadin' up this ammo

To explode it on a camel (Haha) and his soldiers I can handle

This for dolo and his manuscript just sound stupid

When KRS already made a album called Blueprint (Dick)

First Biggie's your man, then you got the nerve to say

That you better than B.I.G., dick-suckin' lips (Ha)

Why don't you let the late, great veteran live?

I will

Not lose (God's son across the belly, I'll prove you lost already), uh

The king is back

Where my crown at? (Ill Will)

Ill Will, rest in peace, let's do it, ****

(I) Fuck with your soul like ether

(Will) Teach you, the king, you know you

(Not) God's Son across the belly

(Lose) I'll prove you lost already

Y'all **** deal with emotions like bitches

What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother, you traded your soul for riches

My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous

And now I smile like a proud dad watchin' his only son that made it

You seem to be only concerned with dissin' women

Were you abused as a child? Scared to smile, they called you ugly?

Well, life is harsh, hug me, don't reject me

Or make records to disrespect me, blatant or indirectly

In '88 you was gettin' chased through your building

Callin' my crib and I ain't even give you my numbers

All I did was give you a style for you to run with

Smilin' in my face, glad to break bread with the God

Wearin' Jaz' chains, no TECs, no cash, no cars

No jail bars, Jigga, no pies, no case

Just Hawaiian shirts, hangin' with little Chase

You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan

I'll still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class?

You Tae-Bo ho, tryna work it out, you tryna get brolic?

Ask me if I'm tryna kick knowledge?

Nah, I'm tryna kick the shit you need to learn, though

That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow (Burn slow)

Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy?

Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's Puffy (Ill)

Rocafella died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter

And that's the guy y'all chose to name your company after?

Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas

And now y'all tryna take my spot, fellas?

Feel these hot rocks, fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas

In a pine box with nine shots from my Glock, fellas

Foxy got you hot 'cause you kept your face in her puss

What you think, you gettin' girls now 'cause of your looks? (Girls, girls, girls, haha)

Negro, please, ha, you no-mustache-havin'

With whiskers like a rat, compared to Beans, you wack

And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame

You ass, went from Jaz to hangin' with Kane, to Irv, to B.I.G

And Eminem murdered you on your own shit

You a dick-ridin' faggot, you love the attention

Queens **** run you ****, ask Russell Simmons, ha

R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick

J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick

Your whole damn record label, gunned up and clapped quick

Shawn Carter to Jay-Z, damn, you on Jaz dick

So little Shawny's gettin' gunned up and clapped quick

How much of Biggie's rhymes is gon' come out your fat lips? (****)

Wanted to be on every last one of my classics

You pop shit, apologize, ****, just ask Kiss