8 Mile: Marv Won vs B-Rabbit

[Marv Won] Yo, yo, y'all ready for death? Y'all ready for death? Marv Won, the Fat Killer The game done got ugly, let's go, yo, yo I seen your type before, you think you're tough Battle you? Bitch, you lucky I don't beat you up In a game of fisticuffs, I'll push your face back You can't fuck with me, man, really, just face facts It's him versus me in a battle of ten rounds It's like Muggsy Bogues tryin' to fuck with Jim Brown Dumb fuck, I'm the type to run amok Come in the club drunk as fuck Slap your bitch so we can buck One hook... type of a man the size of Dan Dierdorf Tryin' to take his ear off, like Mike Tys I'm quite nice on fight nights And why he poppin' shit? Man, I thought he liked life Apparently not, I'm incoherently hot And if I miss you then your parents get shot Yo, I'm a bad boy, bitch, it's on I'll put 44's on your chest like you're Rick Mahorn [B-Rabbit] Hold on, faggot, let me turn this mic on Don't think for a minute I'ma let you Get away with that song 'Cause that shit was wack, you ain't spittin' As a matter of fact, all of that shit was written And I know it wasn't for me Surely, you really must adore me Now, look it… yo, you might as well move to Italy Look, this guy's ripped...*skkkrr* – literally You don't wanna really fuck with this On this microphone, I'm not Snuffleupagus But I don't give a fuck, you can keep that dull rap And turn your ass back around with your fuckin' skullcap And your bandana or your motherfuckin' sweatband Fuckin' with this style, you're a dead man I ain't Redman, but on this mic, yo, I pick it up Just like your face when I had to rip it up You don't wanna see me, yo, uh