What?
  Did I hurt your feelings?
  Uh...I'm supposed to be scared now, right?
  Yo...I'd like to dedicate this record right here
  To Mr. Marshall Mathers' mother, yeah
  This one's for your moms
  
  Here come the mighty
  One they call Whitey
  All you sons of Whitey
  Are all shitbiters
  So won't the real Slim Shady please act up?
  Get smacked up
  Get your eyes blacked up
  With your candy-ass name you're a candy-ass rapper
  I'll smack you up, shut you off like the Clapper
  Whoever said you was raw, son, they lied
  I'm on that shit that dilate and hurt your pride
  Screamin' on a record how you wish I died
  But you don't wanna see me on this physical side
  You're just a big tough guy, tryin' to act hard
  But you won't walk a lobby without your bodyguard
  You ain't pullin' my card, you ain't ridin' the train
  Back in the day, kids like you got robbed for they chain
  Step to me like a man, with the hands, and get slain
  Matter of fact, when you see me, gimme some brain
  Yo, it's like that, we could fight, Jack
  Let's put the mics down, you'll catch a beatdown
  I get love in New York, got fam in L.A.
  And I heard you might be the MC that's gay
  With your platinum blonde Caesar, you look like a ho
  Like M and M stands for Marilyn Monroe
  Talkin' 'bout killin' sprees, you ain't like that, yo
  Makin' lots of enemies, but that's all for show
  You punk ecstasy junkie, you waste of skills
  Stop ridin' my bills, get high on pills
  Yo, I hope you OD, don't come playin' with me
  Little bitch, better watch what you're sayin' to me
  Talkin' shit for shock value, boy, you ain't real
  Turned hard the day Dre gave you a record deal
  Went and sold your soul for some acid pills
  Servin' up that hors d'oeuvre, man, now eat this meal
  Instead of worryin' about who you should be dissin'
  You need to worry about who your wifey been kissin'
  Or if you go to prison while you're doin' your bid
  I'll look in on your lady and do things for your kid
  Make her write you lots of letters about the things that we did
  And send you pictures of me chillin' all up in your crib
  That shit about Sway n' Tek? That was a fib
  First time you met me I showed you love in D.C.
  But you were scared like a pussy with your eyes on the floor
  While your crew showed me love outside the front door
  Talkin' 'bout "Yo, whassup, ain't you Whitey Ford?
  I love that song 'What It's Like' and that jam 'Praise the Lord'"
  I don't do this for the money, yo, I do it for fun
  You may hang around some gangstas, but you ain't one
  And you won't be slappin' me with no empty gun
  Talkin' 'bout a [ ] but you a one in drag
  And you can't keep your woman from goin' astray
  Better run and check your kid for your DNA
  I take care of my moms, you get sued by yours
  With your corny metaphors about drugs and crack whores
  You're a sucker
  
  Word up, real
  You wanna talk shit with Whitey, come talkin' with the hands, B
  I ain't wastin' no more time with you, man, fuck this,
  man, that's it