[Intro: Denace]
Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?
Please stand up?
[Verse 1: Denace]
Hey Saint Nicholas
Merry Christmas
And my condolences
Sorry to interrupt your avocado toast and guacamole chips
You white bitch
Nice clique, that’s so cute
I haven't seen a boy band dance like that since '02 (Bye, bye, bye)
America's got talent, but you don't, poor you
Nice black and white video, Nick
You broke, dude? (Uh..)
By the way, that invitation you sent to my address
Got caught in my junk mail
Punk fagg—
Let me calm down
Before I start spazzin' batshit
And dropping rappers faster that lean and xanax tablets
Oh shit, I'm screaming, sorry, Nick
But you need more than your panhandlers
To get Marshall to lower his damn standards
So here's Stan
I'll let Mariah Carrey my orgasm
On her face, now that's nuts
Like your acting
I just ordered food and one of your rappers DoorDashed me
And asked for the tip
I didn't know what he meant so I gave him the dick
Blew him a kiss, then hocked a loogie 'n spit
Onto Conceited, midget little groupie bitch (Hahaha)
Okay, Stanley
You need to relax 'fore you relapse
Conceited throwing fists around
Everyone cover your kneecaps!
Look over your shoulder, Nick
That's your career, it's over, Nick
It's so ridiculous the way you still hope and spit
I slowly drip
The passion of the holy ghost
And you're just holy shit
[Bridge: Denace]
Give me a second
Let me pray for him
Okay, we're done
Let's get back to it
[Verse 2: Spencer Sharp]
You know what rhymes with Charlie Clips?
What?
Garbage bin
What else?
MTV's cast member with the largest tits (Oh)
You ain't got the heart for this
Seriously, it's shaking like Parkinson's
Every bar he spits
Sounds like a retarded bitch
Gargling a jar of jizz
But enough of this fat fuck Clips
Someone better tell Nick back up, quick
'Fore I slash that wrist
With an axe and split
That turban on his head
Cause I rack up wins
Never heard a song so possibly dog shit
Honestly, can you stop it? (Yeah)
He claims there's a video suckin' a dick
He is just mad that it's not his (Bitch)
You a C-tier level urban celeb
On Percocet meds that have burned through ya head
AIDS? You should be making a documentary on Mariah's herpes instead
You got Suge, that's not good
Everybody knows that pussy works for the feds
I could get more truth from a flat-earther with dreads who only surfs on the web
Oh wow, you a violent shooter?
Stop lying now or I'ma lose it
And take a shot of Jack like I am Kubrick
And shove a pool stick inside of you, Nick
Why? Just for my amusement
I like to do it, my mind is ruined
Why? 'Cause I'm influenced
By Mariah's wine and nitrous cool whip
Talking 'bout guns like I ain't got none
What you think I sold 'em all?
That's like saying, "Whoa, you're tall!"
To Conceited, we all know it's false
Aye yo, hold up, dawg
Who's that hoe you got?
Justina? I just seen ya
And honestly though you was just Cena (Haha)
Plus you can't flow at all
Follow protocol and find a pro to call
Because overall it is over (Aww)
You airheaded fake fuck slut
You suck and will never blow up, doll
C'mon, Nick, what's the formula, bro?
Someone please call boredom control
How did you cook up the corniest show
And the hardest dude on it is Corey Charron?
I'll stab him in the orbital bone with a fork and throw rope
Over this dork's sorcerer stone
Enough of this
Y'all need to hang it up, cunt like abortion at home
[Outro: Denace]
Aye, yo, stop this whack beat
Looks like Charlie grew up and ate the whole chocolate factory
This dude's on the feed more than Hannah Stocking's ass cheeks
Ayo
That's an awfully hot coffee pot
Here's an army shot at Charlie's top
Nick, he threw me a hail mary
You're not even partly 'Pac
I wonder how many mollies popped in the parking lot
Before you came to ruin your career, like Papa Doc
And also, fuck you Chris D'Elia
I'm kidding, man
I think you're funny
Uhm, just invite me to your podcast
