[Verse 1: Marv Won]

Yo, yo, y'all ready for death? Y'all ready for death?

Marv Won, the Fat Killer

The game done got ugly, let's go, yo, yo

I seen your type before, you think you're tough

Battle you? Bitch, you lucky I don't beat you up

In a game of fisticuffs, I'll push your face back

You can't fuck with me, man, really, just face facts

It's you versus me in a battle of ten rounds

It's like Muggsy Bogues tryin' to buck with Jim Brown

Dumb fuck, I'm the type to run amok

Come in the club drunk as fuck, slap your bitch so we can buck

One hook... type of a man the size of Dan Dierdorf

Tryin' to take his ear off like Mike Tys'

I'm quite nice on fight nights

And why he poppin' shit? Man, I thought he liked life

Apparently not, I'm incoherently hot

And if I miss you, then your parents'll be shot

Yo, I'm a bad boy, bitch, it's on

I'll put 44s on your chest like you're Rick Mahorn

[Verse 2: Eminem (as B-Rabbit)]

Hold on, faggot, let me turn this mic on

Don't think for a minute I'ma let you get away with that song

'Cause that shit was wack, you ain't spittin'

As a matter of fact, all of that shit was written

And I know it wasn't for me

Surely, you really must adore me

Now, look it… yo, you might as well move to Italy

Look, this guy's ripped – *skkkrr* – literally

You don't wanna really fuck with this

On this microphone, I'm not Snuffleupagus

But I don't give a fuck, you can keep that dull rap

And turn your ass back around with your fuckin' skullcap

And your bandana or your motherfuckin' sweatband

Fuckin' with this style, you're a dead man

I ain't Redman, but on this mic, yo, I pick it up

Just like your face when I had to rip it up

You don't wanna see me, yo, uh