Moment of Truth - Brandon Mychal Smith, Tyler James Williams

Here we go again

Prepare to meet your end

Just looked you up on Facebook

You have zero friends

This kid’s a loser

You haven’t even kissed a girl

You write her love letters

I’ll buy her ice and pearls

So how you like me now?

Even Roxanne is in the background

Saying «Wow, Bling’s got style»

I’m off the gold chain

If you a rapper, why is Kris your backup dancer

Like an extra from Soul Train

I see your mommy and your daddy in the front row

They must be embarrassed for you bro

You’re not a real MC

You should quit hip hop

Now be a good busboy and go get your mop

Bling, you don’t wanna battle

You’re the snake without the rattle

You’re the boat without the paddle

You’re the duck without the waddle

You’re the horse without the saddle

The ranch without the cattle

The day without the shadow

Son, I think you should skedaddle

Kick gravel

Sayonara punk, arrivederci

What language do I have to say

For you to hear me clear-lay?

Adios amigo

You’re over with, finito

This clown couldn’t wrap anything but my burrito

You have to hold your mommy’s hand

Before you cross the street

You have to sneak out the house

Just to clean and sweep

And now you look queasy

I made him go mute

Put your camera phones up

So you can post this on YouTube

Truth’s got a screw loose, he’s terrified to bust

So lightweight that I could blow him over with a gust

You’re weak like seven days, you deserve boos

You should walk around in some high heel shoes

You should rock pigtails and a skirt

You’re shakin' in your boots

Are your feelings getting hurt?

Ooh, well maybe I should hurt

More than your feelings

Maybe I should rip

The roof off the theater ceiling

Maybe you should start kneeling

His eyes are getting misty

You’re so whack, if you were me, you couldn’t diss me

Kissy, kissy Roxanne

Did you miss me?

I’ll take you out to dinner

After I’ve eaten this pipsqueak

And when we’re on vacation

I’ll let him house sit

Here’s a couple bucks

Buy yourself a better outfit

You know what?

You don’t have a stack of cash or a flashy pad

I saw you last week drivin' a taxi cab

Your secret’s out and now they know, sport

We’ll call you if we need a ride to an airport

In fact, you could drop me off at home after this

Then, you can take your couple bucks back, but as a tip

You playin' yourself like solitaire

Tellin' everyone that’s here that you’re a millionaire

You’re not a baller, you’re a phony

I’ll bet your whole crew was a bunch of Rent-a-Homies

And now you lie in bed lonely, your persona’s a facade

The only girls you get are in the pages of a catalog

Here stands Lord of the Bluff

His lies were legendary, 'til the truth made him hush

And what’s funny is your truth is enough

Why’d you have to make up all the money and the stuff?

I guess it’s easier to play the role and act hard

'Cause you don’t have the guts to tell us who you really are

So you can keep a trophy that you don’t deserve

I might be a busboy but you just got served