Yea, Yeah Yea, Yea, Yea (What's your name?) Marshall (Who's your daddy?) I don't have one My mother reproduced like a komodo dragon And had me on the back of a motorcycle Then crashed in the side of loco-motive with rap, I'm loco It's like handing a psycho a loaded handgun Michelangelo with a paint gun in a tantrum 'Bout to explode all over the canvas Back with the Yoda of rap in a spasm (Your music usually has them) (But waned for the game your enthusiasm it hasn't) (Follow you must, Rick Rubin my little Padawan) A Jedi in training, colossal brain and, thoughts are entertaining But docile and impossible to explain and, I'm also vain and Probably find a way to complain about a Picasso painting Puke Skywalker, but sound like Chewbacca when I talk Full of such blind rage I need a seeing eye dog Can't even find the page, I was writing this rhyme on Oh, it's on a rampage, couldn't see what I wrote I write small It says ever since I drove a '79 Lincoln with white walls Had a fire in my heart, and a dire desire to aspire, to Die Hard So as long as I'm on the clock punching this time card Hip hop ain't dying on my watch But sometimes, when I'm sleeping, she comes to me in my dreams Is she taken? Is she mine? Don't got, Don't care, don't have two shits to give Let me take you by the hand to promise land And threaten everyone, cause there's no rhyme or no reason for nothing (What's your name?) Marshall (Who's your daddy?) I don't know him, but I wonder (Is he rich like me?) Ha-ha (Has he taken, any time, to show you what you need to live?) No! If he had, he wouldn't have ended up in these rhymes on my pad I wouldn't be so mad, my attitude wouldn't be so bad, yeah, dad I'm the epitome and the prime example of what happens When the power of the rhyme falls into the wrong hands, and Makes you want to get up and start Dancing, even if it is Charles Manson Who just happens, to be rapping, blue lights flashing Laughing all the way to the bank, lamping in my K-Mart mansion I'm in the style department with a Pile in my car, ripping the aisle apart With great power comes absolutely no responsibility, for content Completely, despondent and condescending, the king of nonsense And controversy is on a, Beat killing spree, your honor, I must, plea, guilty Cause I sparked a, revolution, rebel without a cause Who caused the evolution of rap to take it to the next level, boost it But several rebuked it, and whoever produced it (Hip hop is the devil's music) Is that me? It belongs to me? Cause I just happen to be, a white honky devil with two horns That don't honk but every time I speak you, hear a beep? But lyrically I never hear a peep, not even a whisper Rappers better stay clear of me, bitch, cause it's the... It's the time of the season, when hate runs high And this time, give it to you easy, when I take back what's mine With pleasured hands, and torture everyone, that is my plan My job here isn't done, Cause there's no rhyme or no reason for nothing (What's your name?) Shady (Who's your daddy?) I don't give a fuck, but I wonder (Is he rich like me?) Doubt it, ha (Has he taken, any time, to show you what you need to live?) So, yeah, dad let's walk, let's have us a father and son talk But I bet we probably wouldn't get one block Without me knocking your block off, this is all your fault Maybe that's why I'm always so bananas, I appeal to all those walks Of like, whoever had strife, Maybe that's what dad and son talks are like Cause I, related to the struggles of young America When their fucking parents were unaware of their troubles Now they're ripping out their fucking hair again, it's hysterical I chuckle, cause everybody bloodies their bare knuckles, yeah, uh-oh Better beware knuckleheads, the sound of my hustle says don't knock The doors broken, it won't lock, It might just fly open, get cold cocked You critics come pay me a visit, Misery loves company, please stay a minute Kryptonite to a hypocrite, Zip your lip if you dish it but can't take it Too busy getting stoned in your glass house to kick rocks Then you wonder why I lash out, Mister Mathers as advertised on the flyers So spread the word cause I'm promoting my passion til I'm passed out A completely brain dead Rainman, going a bankhead in a restraint chair So bitch, if you shoot me a look it better be a blank stare Or get shanked in the pancreas, I'm angrier than all eight of the reindeer Put together with Chief Keef cause I hate every fucking thing, yeah Even this rhyme, bitch And quit tryna look for a fucking reason for it that ain't there But I still am a CRIMINAL Ten year old degenerate grabbing on my GENITALS The last Mathers LP that went diamond This time I'm predicting this one will go EMERALD When will the madness end, how can it when There's no method to the pad and pen The only message that I have to sing Is: Dad, I'm back at it again, bitch