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!