Paleface Picasso – Your Favorite Whiteboy Lyrics

Produced By: Travis Hickey
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“Your Favorite Whiteboy” (Eminem Diss)

[Paleface Picasso]

[Intro]
Guess who! (ha, ha, ha)
Paleface in the flesh!
Soon to be your favorite whiteboy. (*echo* your favorite whiteboy)
W-H-I-T-E….B-O-Y yep I’m proud to be me. (Hey!)
We don’t need a Slim Shady; we don’t need a Slim Shady. Uh Uh, Uh Uh
[I ain’t no puppet on a string!](pending) I give it like I live it ya know!
This is real life! (*echo* real life!)


[Verse 1]
Simple math, Mr. mathematical. Factual rap attackin you
Tactical fractures to theatrical rappers leave’em lateral
Crack your clavicle, shackle you
In a tabernacle and grapple with ecclesiastical radicals smackin you!

As the attribute of magical metamorphosis tortures your performances
With a sickness that fits your feminine orifice

Eminem……you’re feminine
Ya cry wolf (Yela!) When I slaughter your House with venomous synonyms
Hi kids. Do you like Primus?
Want to see Paleface stick a 9 inch mic inside Em’s hind end
It’ll slide in, and besides him, if YelaWolf chimes in
I’ll make him regret the day that he signed him. He’ll never find him

I’m going in on you Shady. Some say its suicide
Until they hear me crucify the booth alive and utilize you and I
To get noticed by the suit and ties
EM & ems are candy coated all your fans are sugar high! Who am I!

[Hook]
Paleface! *echo*….Remember the name
From the streets to the booth, for me it’s all the same
Echo*….Throw your hands in the air!
If you’re ridin with a real whiteboy that ain't too scared! Yeah
Get ya hands up! Get ya hands up!
Go ahead stand up! Yeah I’ll throw them hands…What!

I ain’t tryin to be the realest whiteboy in the game
I’m just one of the realest period! Remember the name!

Paleface! *

[Verse 2]
Realness I’m born with it
If real is a disease then my body was born to be deformed with it

Tormented, a baptism of the cataclysm
Immaculate raps that’ll hit’em with passionate facts that are given
By that battle axe. I’m cutting out their cataracts
Their blinded by their habitat
, matter fact, my Cadillac’s now a med-evac
My paragraphs like a pair a
macs’ that I’m flippin like acrobatics
Pack’em in plastic caskets call it pancreatic cancer panic
I’m white trash. But I climbed out the receptacle
I’m skeptical of rappers cause my resume’s impeccable
Me and the streets inseparable, I’ll kick ya testicles
Into your intestinal vessels and beat ya till you’re a vegetable

The ball’s in your court Mr. Mathers
I’m more than in your league and next to me you’re Hank Gathers

So understand that your problems are permanent
Your predecessor’s here and soon you’ll have to come to terms with it


[Hook]
Paleface! *echo*….Remember the name
From the streets to the booth, for me it’s all the same
Echo*….Throw your hands in the air!
If you’re ridin with a real whiteboy that ain't too scared! Yeah
Get ya hands up! Get ya hands up!
Go ahead stand up! Yeah I’ll throw them hands…What!

I ain’t tryin to be the realest whiteboy in the game
I’m just one of the realest period! Remember the name!
Paleface! *


[Verse 3]
You’ve commercially promoted perversity
Traded pedophilia for currency purposely with a sickening sense of urgency

I’ll unmercifully lay ya vertically for the courtesy of the surgery
Then I’m a verbally murder’Em perfectly

With hyperboles written in blood burgundy….I’m 1 of the greatest!
And it’s time the world’s heard of me.
Hunger burnin internally
I’m terminally ill, but I’m built real
And that’s why cats like me and Jellyroll can’t get a real deal
And Ill Bill, Vinnie Paz and Slaine is in that same lane
But we maintain through the same pain, and aim thangs at these lame brains
And bang bang till they brains hang

I’ve concocted a plan, that’ll rob you of fans
And resurrect Stan with my redemptive hand

Your careers in jet lag, cursed with a setback
I turn a booth into a death trap, my own personal meth lab
Your probably still in the shed playin spin the bottle with your step dad!

(Laughing)
My, My, My name is...



[Hook]
Paleface!
Remember the name
From the streets to the booth, for me it’s all the same
Echo*….Throw your hands in the air!
If you’re ridin with a real whiteboy that ain't too scared! Yeah
Get ya hands up! Get ya hands up!
Go ahead stand up! Yeah I’ll throw them hands…What!
I ain’t tryin to be the realest whiteboy in the game

I’m just one of the realest period! Remember the name!
Paleface! *

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