[Lotto] Yo, I spit a racial slur Honky, sue me This shit is a Harlem flick But the black guy doesn't die in this movie Fuckin' with Lotto, dawg You got to be kiddin' That makes me believe you really don't have a interest in livin' You think these niggas gonna feel the shit you say I got a better chance joinin' the K.K.K. Know some real shit, though I like you-- that's why I didn't want to be the one You commit suicide to Fuck Lotto Call me your leader I feel bad that I got to murder that dude from Leave lt To Beaver I used to like that show Now you got me in fight back mode But oh well, if you got to go You got to go I hate to do this I would love for this shit to last So I'll take pictures of my rear end so you won't forget my ass And all is well that ends okay So I'll end this shit with a "Fuck you, but have a nice day"
[B-Rabbit] Ward, I think you were a little hard on the Beaver So was Eddie Haskell Wally and Ms. Cleaver Who-oa! This guy keeps screamin' He's paranoid Quick, someone get his ass another steroid Blah-de-bee-bee, blah blah Blah-be-dee, blooh blah I didn't hear a word you said Hippity-hoo blah Is that a tank top or a new bra Look, Snoop Dogg has got a fuckin' boob job Didn't you listen to the last round, meathead pay attention You're sayin' the same shit that he said I'm gonna fuck you up! Matter of fact, dawg, here's a pencil Go home, write some shit Make it suspenseful And don't come back until somethin' dope hit you Fuck it, you could take the mike home with you Whoa! Lookin' like a cyclone hit you Tank top's screamin' "Lotto, I don't fit you" You see how far them white jokes get you, boys like "How's Vanilla Ice gonna dis you" My motto, fuck Lotto I'll get the seven digits from yo' mother for a dollar tomorrow. Oh! O-Oh! Oh, oh, oh!