8 Mile: Lotto vs B-Rabbit lyrics

[LOTTO, spoken]
f*ck this coward, dawg
Free World in the motherf*ckin' house, what's goin' on, baby?
Yo, it's time to get rid of this coward right here once and for all
I'm sick of this motherf*cker
Check this sh*t out

[PAPA DOC, spoken]
Rip him, Lotto, rip him, baby
Rip him, yeah

[LOTTO, spoken]
Huh
Huh, yo

[LOTTO]
I'll spit a racial slur, honky, sue me
The sh*t is a horror flick, but the black guy doesn't die in this movie
f*ckin' with Lotto? Dawg, you gotta be kiddin'
That makes me believe you really don't have an interest in livin'
You think these n*ggas gon' feel the sh*t you say?
I got a better chance joinin' the KKK
On some real sh*t, though? I like you
That's why I didn't wanna have to be the one you commit suicide to
f*ck "Lotto", call me your leader
I feel bad that I gotta murder that dude from "Leave It To Beaver"
I used to like that show, now you got me in fight-back mode
But oh well, if you gotta go, then you gotta go
I hate to do this, I would love for this sh*t to last
So I'll take pictures of my rear end so you won't forget my ass
And all's well that ends okay
So I'll end this sh*t with a "f*ck you", but have a nice day
[FUTURE, spoken]
Woah, woah, okay, okay
Can't be mad, can't be mad
A'ight

[PAPA DOC, spoken]
You killed that f*cked up white boy, f*ck!

[FUTURE, spoken]
Okay, settle down, settle down
Give the man a chance
A'ight, Bunny Rabbit's up next
A'ight, B-Rabbit, you got the mic
It's on you, you know what to do
DJ, spin that sh*t

[LOTTO, spoken]
What up, you got something?
Lemme hear something

[PAPA DOC, spoken]
You can't f*ck with us, yeah

[LOTTO, spoken]
Let's see what you got
[CHEDDAR BOB, spoken]
Come on Rabbit!
Get him!

[B-RABBIT]
Ward, I think you were a little hard on the Beaver
So was Eddie Haskell, Wally, and Ms. Cleaver
This guy keeps screamin', he's paranoid
Quick, someone get his ass another steroid!
"Blah-biddy, bloo-blah, blah-blah-biddy, bloo-blah!"
I ain't hear a word you said: "Hippety hoopla!"
Is that a tank top or a new bra?
Look! Snoop Dogg just got a f*ckin' boobjob
Didn't you listen to the last round, meathead?
Pay attention, you're sayin' the same sh*t that he said
Matter fact, dawg, here's a pencil
Go home, write some sh*t, make it suspenseful
And don't come back until somethin' dope hits you
f*ck it, you can take the mic home witchu
Lookin' like a cyclone hit you
Tank top screamin', "Lotto, I don't fit you!"
You see how far them white jokes get you
Boys like, "How Vanilla Ice gon' diss you?"
My motto: "f*ck Lotto!"
I'll get the seven digits from your mother for a dollar tomorrow