It’s all bad now, man, it’s all bad
It’s all fucked up now

Yeah. Ha-ha. New shit. Hey yo.
I just want the whole world to know that I did not start this, but I will finish it

Coming up
It never mattered what color you was
If you could spit then you could spit,
That’s it, that’s what it was back
When motherfuckers was straight back-packing
Cyphering, fighting for life in this rap
For the mic to get passed
And you psyched and you gassed
And you hype ’cause you last
And you might whoop some ass
If you lost then you lost
Shake hands like a man
And you swallowed it,

When the Unsigned Hype column
In The Source was like
Our only source of light
When the mics used to mean something,
A four was like you were the shit,
Now it’s like the least you get
Three and a half now just means you’re a piece of shit
Four and a half or five means you’re Biggie, Jigga, Nas, or Benzino.

Shit, I don’t even think you realize
You’re playing with motherfuckers’ lives,
I done watched Dre get fucked on The Chronic,
Probably ’cause I was on it

Now you fucked me outta my mics twice I let it slide
I said I wouldn’t hold my fucking breath to get a five
Shit I was right, I’d’ve fucking died already trying
I swear to God I never lie

I bet that’s why
You let that bitch give me that bullshit review
I sat and took it, I ain’t look at the shit we knew
You’d probably try to fuck us with Obie and 50 too
Fuck a relationship. We’re through

No more Source with street cred,
Them days is dead
Ray’s got AKs to Dave Mays’s head
Every issue there’s an eight page Made Men spread
Will somebody please tell whoever braids his head
That I am not afraid of this fucking waste of lead
On my pencil,
For me to write some shit this simple

So listen closely,
As I break it down and proceed
This old G’s ’bout to get smoked like rolled weed

You don’t know me or my motherfucking mother, you motherfucking punk
Put me on your fuckin’ cover just to sell your little sell-out mag

I ain’t mad
I feel bad,
Here’s an ad,
Here’s a poster of Ray-Ray and his dad

You wanna talk about some shit that you don’t know about? Yeah
Let’s talk about how you’re putting your own son out there
To try to eat off him ’cause you missed your boat
You’re never gonna blow, bitch
You’re just too old

No wonder you’re sore now
Lordy you’re bored now
I’m pushing thirty
You’re kicking forty’s door down

Bitch, this is war now,
And you’ll never beat me
All you do is cheat me
Out of Quotables
But you know that you’ll always see me
On your TV
‘Cause you gotta stay up ’til three in the morning
To see your video played once on BET

So hee-hee-hee who has the last laugh?
Aftermath yeah so on behalf of our whole staff
Kiss our ass-hole cracks
We’ll never fold or hold back
Just know that Benzino’s wack
No matter how many times I say his name,
He’ll never blow jack

You’re better off trying to bring R-S-O back
Look at your track record that’s how far it goes back
It’s extortion,
And Ray owns a portion
So half of the staff up there is fresh outta jail from Boston

Bullying and bossing,
Dave like a slave
They’ve completely brainwashed him
And forced him to stay locked in his own office
Afraid of the softest fakest wanna-be gangster in New York
And it’s pitiful,
‘Cause I would have never said shit
If you’d have kept your mouth shut

Bitch, now what?
Hit it, Clue. Spit it, Slay.
New shit, exclusive,
Yo Lantern, yo Whoo Kid
You know what to do with this: use it
I’m through, this is stupid,
I can’t believe I stooped to this
Bullshit to do this…

And who you’re calling a bitch, bitch?
You owe me.