Search For Bobby Fischer

[Intro: Rakaa Iriscience]

Yo... it's like this, man

Every once in a while, when motherfuckers pop off at the lip

Somebody get brought into this shit

That don't have nothin' to do with this shit, right?

But, nonetheless

You wanna start lettin' off buckshots, cats gotta retaliate

Y'all callin' out Ev?

Well, you got him

[Verse: Evidence]

Yo, a blonde fag took my kindness for a weakness

But instead of coming hard, threw a weak diss

Twelve of his friends, at first I was speechless

Is it cause you lack pussy, or lack uniqueness?

It's always your type, itchy and quick to bust off

Ruin the party, "Soliloquy of Chaos"

And this verse is jumpin' jacks, a little warm-up

There'll be no bullshit, there'll be no hit chorus

Diss my crew? Yo, you won't go far

The truth is I'm about as much from Detroit as you are

I'm rackin' up points – shit, cat, I'm scorin'

You ain't a true tiger, liar – you from Warren

A trailer trash town where daddy stuck it to ya

That's why you hate your mother, 'cause she never tried to stop it

Twenty years later, you're still out of luck

I met this chick you took home on tour, but couldn't get it up

Alert! Alert! You internet geeks

Eminem is just like you, weak between the sheets

Dr. Evil, tryin to steal my mojo

I'll fuck you up, plus look better in photos

I know what it is, you envy what you hate

I'm what you used to be, you was me in '98

Hungry for props, and ready to rock

Except your stage show is so weak you always just ready to rot

Fuck your pace, walkin' fours at best

That rate on tour dates, hope you never run out of breath

It's such a shame your Uncle Ronnie's not listed

I'm a geek? You jock Fred from Limp Bizkit

Production time; I heard you're makin beats

But don't program the drums, don't program the keys

Don't program the bass; producer? Liar!

Doing that shit's like hirin' a ghostwriter

You might as well, you little fake Chino XL

You're target practice – strictly blast these empty shells

{*crowd roar*} It's an upset, you lose the title!

But first, lose the haircut, you're bitin' George Michael

Next topic, time to stick the knife in

Slaughter your {*scratch*} – ah, fuck it, throw your wife in

I'ma do 'em, do 'em, 'til nothin left

The way I'm murderin' you now, they'll probably avenge your death

You blond bitch, I'm about to rub it in

Go sell millions of records, you still don't own your publishin'

You ain't Hip-Hop, you Pop; extra popular

To little girls, kids, and the Trenchcoat Mafia

So here it comes, a blast from my crew

You 'bout to get chopped by a man named Babu

The funniest part? Let me say this 'fore I'm through

I haven't even begun to start, I saved the best for part two

Scratches: DJ Babu

"Faggot, no comp rapper on a quest"

"Hi!" "Bitch, shut the fuck up!

"If you take offense, fuck it! Got to be that way"

"I thought I oughta tell you, better yet warn"

"Suckers get eliminated, fuckin' with Dilated"

"Nevertheless, I'll say it again"

"BITCH!"

"Soundclash with us, you flirt with disaster"

"Trick or treat..."