Evidence - Search for Bobby Fischer lyrics

Search For Bobby Fischer [Intro: Rakaa Iriscience] Yo.. it's like this man Every once in a while when motherf**ers pop off at the lip Somebody get brought into this sh** That don't have nuttin to do with this sh** right? But none the less You wanna start lettin off buckshots, cats gotta retaliate Y'all callin out Ev? Well you got him [Evidence] Yo, a blonde f*g took my kindness for a weakness But instead of comin hard threw a weak diss Twelve of his friends at first I was speechless Is it cause you lack p**y or lack uniqueness? It's always your type, itchy and quick to bust off Ruin the party, "Soliloquy of Chaos" In this verse, jumpin jacks a little warm up There'll be no bullsh**, there'll be no hit chorus Diss my crew? Yo, you won't go far The truth is I'm about as much from Detroit as you are I'm rackin up points, sh** cat I'm scorin You ain't a true tiger, liar, you from Warren A trailer trash town where daddy stuck it to ya That's why you hate your mother cause she never tried to stop it Twenty years later you're still out of luck I met this chick you took home on tour, but couldn't get it up Alert! Alert! You internet geeks Eminem is just like you, weak between the sheets Dr. Evil, tryin to steal my mojo I'll f** you up, plus look better in photos I know what it is, you envy what you hate I'm what you used to be, you was me in ninety-eight Hungry for props, and ready to rock Except your stage show is so weak you always just READY to rot f** your pace walkin forth at best (at) that rate on tour dates, hope you never run out of breath It's such a shame your Uncle Ronnie's not listed I'm a geek? You jock Fred from Limp Bizkit Production time; I heard you're makin beats But don't program the drums, don't program the keys Don't program the ba**, producer? Liar! Doin that sh**'s like hirin a ghostwriter You might as well you little fake Chino XL You're target practice - strictly blast these empty shells {*crowd roar*} It's an upset, you lose the title! But first lose the haircut, you're bitin George Michael Next topic, time to stick the knife in Slaughter your {Scratch}, ah f** it throw your wife in I'mma do 'em, do 'em 'til nothin left The way I'm murderin you now they probably avenge your d**h You blond b**h, I'm about to rub it in Go sell millions of records, you still don't own your publishin You ain't hip-hop, you pop; extra popular to little girls Kids, and the Trenchcoat Mafia So here it comes, a blast from my crew You bout to get chopped by a man named Babu The funniest part? Let me say this 'fore I'm through I haven't even begun to start, I saved the best for part two {*Babu cuts and scratches these samples*} "f*ggot, no comp rapper on a quest" "Hi!" "b**h shut the f** up! "If you take offense f** it, got to be that way" "I thought I oughta tell you, better yet warn" "s**ers get eliminated f**in with Dilated" -> Cypress Hill "Nevertheless, I'll say it again" "b*tch!" "Soundclash with us, you flirt with disaster" "Trick or treat..."