Eminem-Rap Olympics [1997]

[RAP BATTLE 1] I’ma tell you this for your own benefit Your shit was dope as hell, ’specially when you wrote ninety-percent of it What you need to do is practice on your freestyles ’Fore you come up missin’, like Snoop Dogg’s police files This type of literature that I’m spittin’ be hittin’ You gonna swear to God this shit was written But it wasn’t, I’ll kill a dozen rappers when I’m buzzin’ Guzzlin’, beat your ass like a jealous husband Now, you boys are about to suffer and see north When you go in a coma longer than Vladimir Konstantinov Cut the damn machine off Get a clean cloth, and wipe this bloody video screen off [RAP BATTLE 2] I’m movin’ in for the kill, plus I got the trap set I can tell you’re wack as fuck, and I ain’t even hear you rap yet Look at you thinkin’, “I’m about to whip his ass ‘Cause I’ma do some written shit, plus I get to go last.“ Well, guess what? Even if I go first, it’s no worse My shit’s still gon’ demolish yo’ verse I’m ’bout to slice you like a Ginsu And anything you say can and will be used against you In a court of law, I’m short and raw Take your fuckin’ shit and cut it off Yo, you wanna be a dope emcee? Look, don’t get mad and start takin’ your period out on me [RAP BATTLE 3] You wanna represent on the microphone, but you rap sleazily I ain’t about to battle this fake ass Eazy-E There ain’t no way I’ma do this bullshit I don’t give a fuck, I’m loaded up with a full clip Time of the month? You couldn’t get the tape of the day Take him away, I rip him like a paper mache I heard you rap before, you ain’t about shit This whole battle was mismatched, like your outfit Try to battle me and get your mouth split You sold out, like Ticketmaster Outlet Ha ha, I bust and I crush I don’t give a fuck, ain’t no way that you can fuck with us I’m givin’ back with pimp shit I laminate that ass in a badge and wear it at the Rap Olympics [RAP BATTLE 4] Blah-badee-blah-da-blah-blah—stop babblin’! You so fuckin’ wack I’ma walk away while you battlin’ Fuck that, I’m on a brand new solo mission To make sure that Wendy Day kicks your ass out of the rap coalition I throw a switch at an execution With an overdose of devotion Don’t talk back, I’m the dope, bitch So who you sound like on the mic? There was only one 2Pac, your thug style is just one big sike Take a big hike, bitch, you can’t catch me Your best rhymes still ain’t shit, like a patsy What the fuck you gonna do? I’ll battle anybody in your crew And I don’t give a fuck, I slaughter boys Especially wack-ass emcees that will wear a fake-ass corduroy [RAP BATTLE 5] I’m ’bout to make this mic short circuit This beat is wack as fuck—this shit fits you perfect! I got so many ways to diss you that I’m playful with you I’ll let a razor slit you, ’til they have to staple-stitch you And everybody in this fuckin’ place’ll miss you If you try to turn my facial tissue to a racial issue Nobody’s hearin’ you, you’re a wack liar Damn! All your white jokes just backfired ‘Cause, bitch, you barkin’ up the wrong tree Now go tell all your boys that you was beat by a honkey I don’t give a fuck, I’ll kill ya Bitch, you better recognize me, like I look familiar Anything you say, I’ma kill ya Grill ya, when I fuckin’ drill ya