Yeah… ha ha ha (BANG!)
Yeah, Bizarre Kid coming at you
Eminem and Fuzz, and Mr. Swifty, ha ha
No one's iller than me (what)
No one, no one is iller than me
No one is iller than me
It's Mr. Swifty from the 313
I make rappers wanna turn into singers
I keep hoes licking they fingers
Bring this competition and face this meaning
Got your whole crew doing subpoenas
Hell nah, you ain't seen a crew, genius
Murder whoever's between us, pack your heaters
Keep it close, you can't beat us
While your whole crew treat us like G's, you best believe this
I done made quadriplegics outta these non-rapping rejects
While the whole world ejects your tape
It ain't no secret that your shit sounds fake
You can't stop it my mind state
Makes it too late for cops in trying to stop the crime rate
I'm like toothaches; I'm painful to rappers
Then you can tell from these shells
How I gotta bend 'em like root canals
I erase all trails, something farther from getting bail
Makes you wanna kill an emcee yourself, you might as well
Be within a 25 to life sentence, on linking trials
Horrified, and keep on fronting
Repenting and lose they bowels
Everything is foul when Swift's around, vacate now
Niggas dumb enough to try to front and escape, how?
I'm gonna take this 'gnac and drink it straight wild
Niggas steady falling in my face like milk crates – BLAAAOW!
It's Swifty from the 313
Like I said, no one is iller than me, unnhh
Me and Eminem and Mike, driving down Van Dyke
Get my dick sucked late at night by a fuckin' transvestite
Still on probation for strangling my boy Jason
Should be taking my medication, it's 9 to 10 I'm facin'
Last week this old man I had to blast
‘Cause he tried to help me out when my car was out of gas
Ripped this old lady, hung her neck by a hook
Didn't realize it was my grandmother
'Til I checked her pocketbook
Fuckin' with the white boys got me back on crack
Better explain where the hell your TV's and VCR's is at
I done lost 100 pounds, I ain't been eating like I should
This wounded dog in the street is sure looking good
Rob this little boy in his fucking paper route
Throwing bombs at day care centers
And yell Everybody get out!
My girl beat my ass and shot me in the back with a 2-piece
‘Cause she found out
I was having an affair with her 10-year-old niece
No one, no one's iller than me
It's Bizarre Kid straight from the 313
No one, no one is iller than me
It's Bizarre Kid straight from the 313
Nobody better test me, ‘cause I don't wanna get messy
Especially when I step inside this bitch, dipped freshly
New Lugz, give the crew hugs, guzzle two mugs
Before I do drugs that make me throw up, like flu bugs
True thugs, rugged unshaven messy scrubs
Whipping 40-bottles like the fucking Pepsi clubs
Down a fifth; crack open a six;
I'm on my seventh 8-ball, now I gotta take a piss
I'm hollering at these hoes that got boyfriends
Who gives a fuck who they was?
I'm always taking someone else's girl, like Cool J does
They probably don't be packing anyways, do they, Fuzz?
We walked up, stomped they asses and blew they buzz
Mics get sandblasted, stab your abdomen
With a hand crafted pocketknife and spill your antacid
Sprayed your motherfuckin' crib up when I ran past it
Fuckin' felon, headed to hell in a handbasket
Talking shit'll get you, your girl and your man blasted
Kidnapped and slapped in a van wrapped in Saran plastic
Get your damn ass kicked
By these fantastic furious four motherfuckers
Flashing in front of your face without the Grand Masters
Slim Shady, ain't nobody iller than me
I run shit like an ass with legs
Massive lead to leave your cabbage red
Similar to your ass in a casket dead
Drastic spread of acid heads
Come to abort you like a bastard egg
That trash you said got you standing on plastic legs
Ask the feds from past the edge
Rocking the most classic threads
Flashing bread, roll down the window
Bitch you got some fantastic legs
You can get 'til that ass get red
You can get 'til that ass get red
Bizarre, you get him and him; Swift, you get him and him
I'll get him and him, leave the other two for my nigga Eminem
Never writer's block, I block writers
My block's tighter, ante up and get your top fighters
Got fired for jumping the counter with a mop stick
Some bitch ran up screaming, Get the cops, quick!
And got drop kicked, now she screaming, Stop it!
Got clips to stop shit, rock shit and grab this hot shit
Wherever you shop, bitch, Fuzz Scoota '97 crop pick
Sick of y'all niggas looking at me like I got tits
I shoot a rocket through your optic
You niggas still don't know the top pick
I got bricks, lose my foot in your ass
And have you shitting socks, bitch
P Rock shit, leave your fucking knot split
Grab the green from Al by showing him hot grits
(No one) Ain't nobody iller than me
It's the Mr. Fuzzy from the 313
No one, no one is iller than me
It's Eminem and Swift from the 313
No one, no one is iller than me
It's Fuzz and Buzz-arre from the 313
You have now witnessed 4 ill emcees
From the home of potholes and trash
We'll lyrically blast

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