Yeah, you too mothaf**a
Yeah, to the whole rap game: f** you! (f** you!)
Cats showing no shame, so f** you! (f** you!)
Man if you gotta use my name, to get yourself a little fame
Then you're a loser anyway, f** you! (f** you!)
That Morty Gold sh**'s weak, f** you! (f** you!)
Even the old sh**'s sweat, so f** you! (f** you!)
And Granite grows gritty beats, while the whole city sleeps
So if you're just waking up, then f** you! (f** you!)
Eyyo, remember when you showed love, before you had a big mouth
When you were just a noname, before you put your sh** out
Before you went to b**h rap, before the dough got ya
And turned hiphop into a f**ing soap opera
More and more drama, I've been tripping all week
Because these kids all think that their sh** don't stink
Chill, don't speak, you ain't signing autographs
Y'all should be slanging tapes, out a f**ing garbage bag
Hardest ever f*g on a track acting phoney
You made a rap record and wanted to act like you know me
You want me to do a cut with you, chill and smoke a blunt with you
And be my little buckaroo, but I don't even f** with you
And it ain't nothing new, you dance for a docket
And you all playahate each other like lobsters in a bucket, f** it!
And to my peers, I just wanna hear flows, it appeal to my ears
But nobody hears close, you wanna hear it, here it goes, f** you! (f** you!)
You hiphop-heroes, f** you! (f** you!)
You cats with big egos
And all you f**ing weirdos, spitting words you can't spell f** you! (f** you!)
That's all you'll ever get from me, f** you! (f** you!)
Yeah, till infinity, f** you! (f** you!)
The Internet, the industry, the radio ain't sh** to me
Y'all can all go to hell, f** you (f** you!)
Eyyo, I press 500 tapes, gave away a stack of 'em
I'm broke but the bootleggers probably went platinum
So Morty's coming after them, pissed and disgusted
I hope you catch AIDS, I hope you get your sh** busted
Stacking no chips, you wonder why I'm so pissed
You so rich, and all up in my pockets like a broke b**h
Subliminal, it's no diss, f** it then, so is this
Two words and both fists
I pull cards like "Go Fish", dead on I don't miss
Man I can't hold back, rap on your own risk
Don't get your dome cracked
Man I just won't pack my hard-heard bucks
And I didn't cop your new CD, but I heard it s**ed
And every spot I go to, it's just the same sh** again
Watch whose name you whispering
Don't think that I ain't listening, get some recognition
Watch your momma start hating, it's the he-say-she-say
I refuse to partaken
And to the writers start painting, f** you! (f** you!)
And till the bomb end in breaking, f** you! (f** you!)
And to all you rappers faking, take that money that you're making
And go buy yourself a heart, f** you! (f** you!)
Yo, what's this beefing all about? f** you! (f** you!)
I'm the wrong cat to doubt, f** you! (f** you!)
Just put your wack a** album out, and keep my name up out your mouth
And everything will be gravy, f** you! (f** you!)
Yea yea, you like to pop a lot of crack
That's why nobody got your back
And you don't even got a gat
I hope your a** gets shot for that
You got the nerves to wonder why I screw face you fruitcakes
You're too fake, and you don't even like that bullsh** you make
It's not in your new tape, it's not how you spit (uh-uh)
It's all in what you got, and whose dick you s** to get it
Your rhymes: despicable, punchlines: predictable
Man, any kind of criminal would beat that a** on principle
You ain't never been broke, that supposed to be some sick joke?
Expecting heads to buy it, when you lie with every pen stroke?
I see it in your eyes, I can't help but criticize
You ain't no murderer unless you count k**ing eyes
And every time you're in my eye, you're caught up in a different lie
You bunch of pussies wish I died, but I got bigger fish to fry
Too many names a name, but just on vain your one-two
Play this song for your crew, and say I'm hating on you
But what you're really gonna do, f** you! (f** you!)
Every single last one of you, f** you! (f** you!)
You always claim you're number one, but you're less than number two
In other words you ain't sh**, f** you! (f** you!)
You really think you'll match this? f** you! (f** you!)
You're a damn actress, f** you! (f** you!)
You got a crew full of f*gots, and your heart is Lenny Kravitz
And your b**h got dirty feet, f** you! (f** you!)
You wanna talk about crime? f** you! (f** you!)
You're the type to drop dimes, f** you! (f** you!)
And you can copy down my rhymes, and try to read between the lines
But it all sums up the f** you! (f** you!)
My name is Morty Goldsteen, f** you! (f** you!)
I stay up late and don't sleep, f** you! (f** you!)
I like to chill and smoke weed, and steal sh** I don't need
So when you catch me in your crib, f** you! (f** you!)