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Calling all dogs, calling all dogs |
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Be on the look out for a big homo nigga with dimples |
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And I'ma let y'all know somethin', it ain't just start here |
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We've been preyin' on that ass since 'Jack the Ripper' |
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And now its time to rip it to the jacker |
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(ahhhhhhhhhhh .....) |
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No rapper could rap quite like I can |
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You know who the fuck I am, I'm the canibus man |
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I had to rock to a beat like this to show you |
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That I'm iller then the future, the present, and the old you |
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I told you, wish you could take it all back don't you |
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Tried to smoke some canibus but canibus smoked you |
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Calling yourself the greatest is something you don't do |
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Cause after I humiliate you what will the G.O.A.T. do |
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You can't rap or act my main man |
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You goin' end up as an intern working for Def Jam |
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See you was never bad enough to battle with Canibus |
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You out of luck, I crushed you the minute I got tatted up |
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And every lie you told just added up cause you wasn't man enough |
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To be fair, but I'm mad a fuck and I've had enough |
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Jack the ripper or I'ma rip the jacker |
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Rape a rapper with a classic from his own masters |
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You're dead |
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There's a rumor going around that I got dropped |
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200,000 albums sold at 10 dollars a pop |
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300,000 albums were shipped, you do the math |
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Thats 3 million in 3 months so kiss my ass |
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All these magazines tried to steamroll me to death |
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Guess what, the G.O.A.T. ain't platinum and neither is 'Clef |
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And I'm still here, inspite of all that shit them niggaz said |
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The skinny kid, the music industry's guinea pig |
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Tighter then ever, world's chief mic recka |
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Tougher then reverend run's muthafuckin' leatha |
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I'm hardcore, cum shot right in your wife's face |
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You soft porn, you held hands on the first date |
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See when you was making records like I need love |
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Your homie Cornell was givin' it to you up the butt |
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Plus I heard Simone was the high school slut |
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And she learned how to fuck before she knew how to cuss |
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Nigga you're dead |
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You married a slut and had kids with her to cover up your hustle |
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You and your man Russell made a better couple |
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Your probably mad as fuck, wondering where I got the information from |
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Your being watched even when you take a dump |
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Its impossible to front, you can't hide |
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The chairs at your label got ears and the walls got eyes |
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Your living one big lie the world just don't know |
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You take a polygraph test that shit would probably explode |
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The truth is mr. smith you got a fucked up attitude |
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God knows that I pitty your fans for backing you |
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Yo, this be the realest shit I ever wrote |
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You should change your muthafuckin' name from G.O.A.T. to G.L.O.A.T. |
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The Greatest Liar Of All Time that cannot rhyme |
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That cannot shine as long as I'm alive |
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Your prime ended 8 months before '99 |
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And that microphone on your arm will always be mine |
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Nigga you're dead |
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I told you to leave it alone, but you was too stubborn |
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Now your in a world where the hunter becomes the hunted |
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Your wife is scared cause she don't want to lose a husband |
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And somebody keeps paging you putting 4321 in |
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You can't sleep at night thinking about the drama |
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Shit stains all up in your phat farm pijamas |
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Even f.u.b.u. gear looks hot until it touches you |
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Probably because your father undoubtedly butt-fucked you |
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Mama said knock who out? I'll punch that bitch in the mouth |
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Cause she don't know what she talking about |
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Ay yo, do me a favor when you see your ghostwriters |
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Tell them the rhymes they wrote for you should have been a lot tighter |
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You could have asked me, I'll write you some lines |
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I'll do anything for the greatest loser of all time |
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You still drippin' with wack juice 'cause you wack nigga |
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If you want the last word you can have it, I'm still iller |
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You're dead |
