Everlast - Eminem diss lyrics

What? Did I hurt your feelings? Uh... I'm supposed to be scared now, right? Yo... I'd like to dedicate this record right here To Mr. Marshall Mathers' mother, yeah This one's for your moms Here come the mighty One they call Whitey All you sons of Whitey Are all dickbiters So won't that b**h Slim Shady please act up? Get smacked up, get your eyes blacked up With your candy-a** name you're a candy-a** rapper I'll smack you up, shut you off like the Clapper Whoever said you was raw, son, they lied I know that sh** I spit on Dilated hurt your pride Screamin' on a record how you wish I died But you don't wanna see me on this physical side You're just a fake tough guy, tryin' to act hard But won't walk a lobby without your bodyguard You ain't pullin' my card, you ain't ridin' the train Back in the day, kids like you got robbed for they chain Step to me like a man, with the hands, and get slain Matter of fact, when you see me, b**h, gimme some brain Yo, it's like that, we could fight, Jack Let's put the mics down, you'll catch a beatdown I get love in New York, got fam in L.A And I heard you might be the MC that's gay With your platinum blonde Caesar, you look like a ho Like M and M stands for Marilyn Monroe Talkin' 'bout k**in' sprees, you ain't like that, yo Makin' lots of enemies, but that's all for show You punk Ecstasy junkie, you waste of sk**s Stop ridin' my dilz, stay high on pills Yo, I hope you OD, don't come playin' with me Little b**h, better watch what you're sayin' to me Talkin' sh** for shock value, boy, you ain't real Turned hard the day Dre gave you a record deal Went and sold your soul for some ma** appeal Servin' up that hors d'oeuvre, kid, now eat this meal Instead of worryin' 'bout who you should be dissin' You need to worry 'bout who your wifey been kissin' Or if you go to prison while you're doin' your bid I'll look in on your old lady and do things for your kid Make her write you lots of letters 'bout the things that we did Send you pictures of me chillin' all up in your crib And that sh** about Sway n' Tech? That was a fib First time you met me I showed you love in D.C But you were scared like a p**y with your eyes on the floor While your crew showed me love outside the front door Talkin' 'bout "Yo, wha**up, ain't you Whitey Ford? I love that song 'What It's Like' and jam 'Praise the Lord'" I don't do this for the money, yo, I do it for fun You may hang around some gangstas, but you ain't one And you won't be slappin' me with no empty gun Talkin' 'bout a f*g but you the one in drag And you can't keep your woman from goin' astray Better run and check your kid for your DNA I take care of my moms, you get sued by yours With your corny metaphors about d** and crack who*es You're a s**er Word up, for real You wanna talk some sh** money, come talk it with the hands, B I ain't wastin' no more time with you, man, f** this Man, that's it