"Hey Fuck You" lyrics

Uh. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. This next song is a blast
And I gotta say we are having a ball up here tonight
And when you're ready, and

Shabba doo, shabba dee
Shabba dee, shabba doo

Which of you schnooks took my rhyme book?
Look, give it back, you're wicky-wack
With your ticky-tack calls, didn't touch you at all
I didn't touch your hand, man, you know it's all ball

You sold a few records but don't get slick
'Cause you used a corked bat to get those hits
Yeah, you've been in the game, your career is long
But when you really break it down you only got two songs

MCs are like clay pigeons when I'm shootin' skeet
I just yell "Pull!" and Mike drops the beat
You people call yourselves MCs but you're garbage, men
Takin' out the trash when you pull out the pen

And if you don't like it, then, "Hey! Fuck you!"

Now, I read about you up on page 6
They was trashin' your ass it said you're gettin' dissed
Now talk about your face now don't get pissed
But I suggest you see a dermatologist

I keep that hot sauce hot, not mild and weak
It's gonna burn your mouth until you wet your beak
I've got billions and billions of rhymes to flex
'Cause I've got more rhymes than Carl Sagan's got turtlenecks

Your rhymes are fake like a Canal Street watch
You're hearing me and you're like, "Oh, my God. It's Sasquatch!"
But I'm walkin' on water while you're steppin' in shit
So put your sewer boots on before your ass gets lit

And if you don't like it, then, "Hey! Fuck you!"

So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself

And if you don't like it, then, "Hey! Fuck you!"

Sucker MCs, it's me they're resentin'
In the animal kingdom, they call it presentin'
With the dipsy-doodle, the kit and caboodle
The truth is brutal, your grandma's kugel

Kings County is my stomping ground
The Albee Square Mall, Brooklyn, Downtown
So don't ask me to wine and dine ya
I'm from Brooklyn, you're from Regina

You're like Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam
You're just yellin' and wildin' wonderin' who I am
A-with those lies you're telling you're like Toucan Sam
But my style's impregnable like the Hoover Dam

And if you don't like it, then hey, fuck you!
And if you don't like it, then hey, fuck you!

W-how, what a loser!