🎵 Bun Em’ (Eminem Diss) // by Big Zuu

26 ContributorsBun Em’ (Eminem Diss) Lyrics [Verse 1] You little hillbilly, I will turn your daughter to a big brainer Z-double-U in the war, no disclaimer Didn't think that I could rap 'cause I'm an entertainer? Well, I'ma show you how you take out a hall-of-famer There's no point in a rap battle, you'll just lose it You was talking about little boys on "Just Lose It" You had this weird obsession with MJ so much That he had to go buy the rights to your music Didn't think I could do this, I'll show them that Zuu's sick Heavyweight, I'm a champion, every belt like music I can break down the whole game, twist it up like a Rubik's Alright stop, it's mandem time [Verse 2] Come here, USA, sit on my lap And let me break it down why we're actually your dads They love to cap and act like the UK can't chat But the fact is you use English when you rap Now there's a couple things you can use on the chat Like I'm fat and how I eat food on the can But I'll burn a boy, then I'll have the last laugh Company eight figures from water in the can But your whole career's about how you're a shit dad And that you're a white boy who wish that he'd been black Fuck "The Eminem Show", I'll kill him and sit back You'll lose yourself if you try to come with a diss track I'm overweight, me versus Slim is a mismatch I'm not afraid of clashing a donkey the kickback Is your little Stan's gettin' upset on the TikTok? But I'll fly Hailie to sit on my big (Woo!) You're gonna need a doctor for when I get pissed off You can't be a GOAT, ain't even better than Rick Ross Me? I've been the wave, if it's a clash, you can see shells Let me dig a grave for another nigga in D12 You can't be a great, supporters are racists and be twelve You a rap god, but the devil's in the details You sold your soul, lyrics are gimmicks for retail You stand for nothing, used your ex to excel We all know about Kim, you gave your Ex hell Put this pussy in a blunt, burn 'em and and exhale Love a rapper in a coffin, I swear it's the best smell I'm a grime MC, so clashing won't end well Did it for my family, it was never to get girls Music isn't about the numbers, don't care 'bout the best sells It's more about the feelings you get when you press play Didn't do it for the gains, I'll dead 'em and rest day All your latest tracks, nobody is feeling them When you rap, all I'm hearing is cinnamon, frinningen If it's a war, then I'm winning, the stuff is minimum If they're bigger, than the floor is harder when they're hitting it This ain't even my final form, had to give them a little bit You and Joyner are both arse, couldn't level with Little Mix You little pricks, suck your mum if you hear this And don't sue me 'cause, obviously, this beat, I couldn't clear this