The Game x HIT-BOY - The Black Slim Shady (Eminem Diss) [LYRICS INCLUDED]

OmegaRed

lyrics

Interlude 1: Uber Driver
Hey, grandma
I'm still out here makin’ my Uber runs
I'll be home soon
I just got one more pick up, kinda close to 8 Mile
Okay, okay, love you too

Intro: The Game
G-G-G-G, Shady (G-G)
Shady Aftermath (Yeah)
Me and Hit-Boy back on our shyt, let's go
Yeah (G-G)
Chorus: The Game
I don’t think they know who they fukkin' with
Pull that truck around, nikkas is duckin' clips
Hi, I'm the Black Slim Shady
I unpack the heat with my oven mitts
I tip-toe around in my Chucks and shyt
Hi, I'm the Black Slim Shady

Verse 1: The Game
It's Game, sick in the brain
Sick as the day that I came
Hennessy runnin' through my veins, I load up the clip and aim
Sick of you nikkas talkin' like you won’t get wet in the rain
Now I’m singin' Frank Ocean, and you get hit with this Novacane
Sick and tired of nikkas, bytches, and critics, they all the same
Lame games they playin’, lyin', tryin' me for my name
I stick my dikk in your Black ass
Shallow bytch on the show, just to lick the tip it's ridiculous, she watchin’ it grow
Cross eyed-ed, crosshairs on my enemies
If you cross the street, you run into me, you crash in to a light bolt
Now you crawlin' out the driver side like a centepede
And me, I'm finna be on a jet to the Phillipines
Spill the beans, kick the Kool-Aid, overtell, God don't intervene
While I'm smashin' Saweetie p*ssy to smithereens
It's the G-A-ficky-ficky-M, paint my face, I'm him
Puttin' this big black dikk in your skims
Chorus: The Game
I don't think they know who they fukkin' with
Pull that truck around, nikkas is duckin' clips
Hi, I'm the Black Slim Shady
I unpack the heat with my oven mitts
I tip-toe around in my Chucks and shyt
Hi, I'm the Black Slim Shady

Verse 2: The Game
I killed Dr. Dre in my basement last night
I was wasted last night, I went ape shyt last night
Chopped his body up, and forget where I placed it last night
Had a slice of humble pie, I couldn't taste it last night (Hahaha)
Lost my taste and my smell, I got Omarion
Me and Dr. Fauci went to crazy girls and then we got our party on
So fee-fi-fo-fum, I'm with 40 goin' dumb
Not E-40, the other 40, I'm with Canadians in Drake's house
Havin' a stakeout
And I'm so tired of orderin' takeout, what's beef?
Beef is when you tell the chef to bring them steaks out
So let's play house with the Dracos and AR's
Stay the fukk up off of Stanley grass and take a shyt they yard
And my dikk stay hard, when I see Lizzo on the internet
Here it is another BBL
And my dikk get little on the internet
My intellect is NFT's and Cryptos, I can never be a Crip though
I tip-toe with my red rag around six O's
Interlude 2: Uber Driver & The Game
Chuck?
Yeah
Hey, man, let's get you out the rain
Good lookin', how's your day goin', bro?
I'm cool, man, you don't need that mask
Nobody cares about that shyt anymore
You got a charger up there with you?
Yeah, for sure, it reaches all the way back there too
Good lookin', homie
Ayo, I really fukk with that starter cap, that shyt hard as fukk
Crazy story behind it, my brother Stan, rest in peace
What?
He gave me this hat twenty-two years ago
Damn
It's my favorite
Can I see that shyt for a minute?
Uh, yeah, sure
Oh, shyt, this motherfukker autographed and everything
Who signed it for you?
Eminem
He used to be like this rap God
Man, me and my brother praised him
Back when I was little, I don't really like any of his new stuff
Woah, wait, I know where we're goin', wait, why do you have a gu—?
Yo, shut the fukk up
Ayy, man, I'm drivin', I'll get you there wait
I'll take you, I'm a fan, that's cool
Stop lookin' back, stop lookin' back here
It's cool dude, man, you don't need to do this
Focus on the fukkin' road
Okay
Yo, come on, man
Alright
Drive
Alright, alright
Drive
We'll go, we'll go
Shut the fukk up
Alright

Verse 3: The Game
Ask Dre
All I got is my word, my dikk and my MAC 10
One thing you can never have is my motherfukkin' Black... skin
This ain't no suit that I wore
This ain't a mansion, a hangin' plaque, this ain't no stupid award
So, oh, he goes platinum
And, oh, I'm on the 'Math with him
He got all the Blackest friends
He wants to be African, me
Left for dead on the Dr.'s Advocate
Dre never executive-produced it, I just imagined it
Oh, here goes the magic tricks
Candy shops and the magic stick
D'Angelo Bailey got in shape to whoop your ass again
You depressed, you just maskin' it
You pop an Adderall, a Vicodin, and an Aspirine
But the math wasn't mathin' in
So pass me the torch 'cause the torture in my mind
With the voice that defied rhymes will force the blind eye
To see that I was in the white Rolls Royce with five .9's
When you was pretendin' to be the white Royce da 5'9"
I just crossed a fine line
Might just force the white guy to call D12 so he can be the pork they grind, swine
And the biggest rapper in Detroit, that award is Sean Don
So uncork the Chardonnay and stick my fork in white wine
I never heard you in the club, I never heard you in the bar
Eleven albums and ten never got played inside of my car
I'd rather listen to Snith9ine like sixty-nine times
And participate in sixty-nines with sixty-nine nuns than listen to you
You're a Karen, call the cops, tell 'em it's a Black man on your block
With a Glock and he got it cocked
And the tattoos on his face is a star and a teardrop
He standin' on a ? drop and he says he can feel Pac in the air
Like Phil Collins, listen to him, he still wildin'
(Ah, Epstein chased me around Epstein island)
So silence, I'm—, I'm thinkin', uh, mm, yeah
Nothin' rhymes with orange!
So ficky-ficky Slim Shady, please, stand up
Shoot the fade with me, I'd love to put these hands up
I could .40 Glock you, unarmed
Drop the world on your head with one arm
Dear Slim, Hailie's with me and she's unarmed for now (Dad, I'm really scared)
These are the deepest secrets, I keep and I be on defence
'Cause G's ain't supposed to fold up
With all the facades I hold up inside of my mind, I froze up
I'm cold as COVID, Ebola, the Spanish flu, and Corona
The Zika virus, pneumonia is deep inside my persona
On each side of my shoulders is demon chasin' Jehovah
The renegade or the soldier, I really gave it to Hova (How it feel?)
Twenty-three years, still ain't penetratin' the culture
You are not, top five, in mine, B.I.G or Pac eyes
No André, no Nas, stop tellin' white lies
Sniff a white line, this the right time
I Suge Knight, Vanilla Ice, I'm not Mr. Nice Guy

Bridge: The Game
I'm crazy (I'm crazy, I'm crazy)
I'm crazy (I'm crazy, I'm crazy)
I'm not Mr. Nice Guy
I'm crazy (I'm crazy, I'm crazy)
Dre know
I'm crazy (I'm crazy, I'm crazy)
Way to fukkin' go

Verse 4: The Game
You done pissed off Jimmy, Universal, and Interscope
Know, I got Jimmy, Slim, 50, and Universal in the scope
('Cause I'm shady) Shadier than him
(I'm crazy) Crazier than Kim
So when the Bat signal goes up in the clouds above the buildings
I hope you live long enough to see heroes turn into villains
Oh, you think I'm a Joker? Well, riddle me this
You love you mother?
Well, I'm cleanin' out your closet for you and your half-brother
And I told you when I was in Detroit, I wanted to go to 8 Mile
'Cause when I was little to get some M&M's, I had to walk eight miles
But you wouldn't leave the studio, your life is on loop
That's why I'm doggy in style, 'cause nikkas rather bump Snoop
And I'm a lyrical .50 cal
Leave his brain all thin, wind, the games all endin'
The chainsaw, vrinn, vrinn
Hello? Hello?
Pagin' Dr. Dre?
He ain't got a lot to say
But since Curtis always do, let him write the rhymes for you
Tell him to clip the wings on my butterfly tatt' and force 'em back in the coc00n
Now does he still rap or did he have a change of heart too?
The chick on the show wasn't pickin' me and Mariah wasn't pickin' you
So the cannons is blam-blammin' and if it jam then I unjam it
And wipe down my stripper pole with the hair grease from your bandana
You wish you was Santana or Cam in them ten Jays
Durag for ten years and never had one wave
And I was that runaway slave, that they buried in that one grave
And some say he would back to haunt Slim Shady one day
Now I'm here, hope you ready, this is not mom's spaghetti
This your dad was twenty-two when he ate lil' Debbie
He takes the cake
'Cause she was only fifteen, so how could one not sympathize with her havin' you as a teen?
She had to lose herself in the moment, give up her dreams
Just to see her son out here lookin' like a wigger in jeans (Yeah)
Little Marshall Mathers
Mad 'cause nobody thinks that little Marshall matters
That sentiment's hard to gather
Let's get this shyt all together, the picture was rift, I fixed it
But none with me, you, and 50, let's stitch this shyt all together
You like it, Slim?
I made it just for you
I even kidnapped Stan's brother and baited him here for you
But you would just say, "No"
Probably leave us in the blistering cold
God made you damn near perfect, He just missed your soul
You ain't the shell of who you used to be
And after you, it's me, on the Uzi spree like it's two of me
And Matthew's dead now, it's just you and me
The sweatpants, the dad hat, durag and no jewelry
Mm, is that cultural appropriation
Ask Paul if it's inappropriate for me to make that statement, rude of me
How your date went?
Did you re-dye your beard or get another face lift or do shrooms in your mom's basement
Until you nod and see spaceships
And the aliens inside it come and tell you your talent's wasted
Then you wake up and you ain't shyt
I know you fiendin' for a Dr. Dre bass hit
How ironic, an addict in a basement
And now I chronic, 'cause I done had it with the fake shyt
You never understood ebonics or a cadence
I press everything like a weight bench
And every time the play hits, you off another playlist
Sorry, it ain't workin' out
nikkas shootin' billy? blanks (It's my winner's speech)
While I'm here, I should really thank MGK, UGK, Tech N9ne, Uzi spray
My other twelve personalities wasn't really in the mood today
Hi, kids, here's somethin' funny, let's all say, "nikka" once
Crashed the car, hit and run
Jumped out, hid the gun
Your fans want a rap god, well, fukk it, I'ma give him one
I came to put Slim in a box but he already live in one

Outro: The Game
Mr. Shady, don't be shady
Pick that pen up, don't be lazy
Call up Dre and get that Dre beat
Jump off stage if shyt get crazy
Mr. Shady, don't be shady
Pick that pen up, don't be lazy
Call up Dre and get that Dre beat
Jump off stage if shyt get crazy

Source: siccness.net/wp/the-game-x-hit-boy-the-black-slim-shady-eminem-diss