Lyrics:

Hailie, what do you wanna be when you grow up, baby?
I don't know, but I don't wanna grow up to be like Ja Rule's little dirty-ass kids
A-ha!
Yeah!
C'm' on
G-G-G-G-G-G-G-Unit
Hailie (What?) Come here, baby
Bring Daddy his Oscar (Okay)
We're gonna shove it up Ja Rule's ass
I'm about to get rid of some hoes, it's simple
I'm quick to murder ink with lead
And I ain't talkin' 'bout a pencil
Look at what the fuck you done got into
I see you found your niche, you're just a bitch with a menstrual
Claimin' you're a murderer, and you spelt it wrong
You put “E” before the “D” because that's all you on
You're on Pac's dick (Bitch), you're a replica guy
If he was still alive, you would never get by (For real)
All you do is cry, bitch, keep it real
Life is more than imitatin' niggas and eatin' pills (Ha!)
And what kind of motherfucker ruins three deals
That another nigga got you? They didn't see skills
And I ain't playin', you're a brother gettin' cheated
And Ja Rule be prayin' on his cover, ‘cause he need it
And all you niggas hatin', shut your mouths
It's just that real niggas ain't buyin' that shit y'all put out

Do-Re-Mi—but we don't sing, muhfuckas
So Murder Inc, do your thing, muhfuckas
You unleashed on a team
Who expects nothin' less than R&B coming from that regime?
'Regime' is a little extreme
Neck and neck with soldiers, muhfuckin' Marines
Ja sold his soul to sing
Weave eye-witness team on the TV screen, chase the greed
Now that you've embraced the green
Don't fuck with the triple beams
You's a motherfuckin' actor, slash Pac impersonating rapper
Slash Billie Holiday–how it happen?
Artist and repertoire saw him in action
Pac assassination, Def Jam grabbed him
Told him, 'Reenact him, you go platinum'
They seen it for sure, I know that Afeni Shakur
Don't enjoy Jeffrey Atkins's reenactin' her boy
So I'm click-clackin' this toy, mash and destroy
Shady slash Aftermath and Detroit, motherfucker
Yeah!
Do-re-mi, fa-so-la-ti-da (Yeah!)
Don't blame me ‘cause your washed up, lost your spot (Your reign is over)
Mama-say-mama-sa-ma-macosa (Ha!)
Ja, quit playin', knock it off, you're not 2Pac (Ja, come out the rain)
Don't hate me, 'cause I'm too hot and you're not
Shootin' at me with the only shot you got
Ja, quit playin', knock it off, you're not 2Pac
You'll get popped, poppin' all that shit you pop
(Kuniva)

Now, we can get past the mean mugs and get to the slugs
To the grievance and the crying and the intimate hugs
We don't take you serious, nigga, you shook
You half of a half-way crook, get off X dick, go sing a hook, nigga
And you can't replace the late great one
And when you gone, you only gon' be the late fake one
Nigga, please, stick to the script
Before the guns, stick to the clip
And, Benzino, you ain't shit but a bitch (Bitch)
Fuckin' old-ass, ignorant, innocent-lookin' senior citizen
Built up, slap you like Grimace, all sensitive
Wait a minute, hold on:
Is it me, or do he look like a banana with braids and clothes on?
A bitch-made man; now, how you gonna connect
With them short ass arms, like a Tyrannosaurus Rex?
You niggas can scream, holler and curse
Go ahead, respond and pull that pen and pad up outta your purse

Slim didn't send Proof to get at the wankstas
He told me to let loose and spit at the gangstas
What up, Gotti? And this little war you pushed on
Put your ear to the ground for Stuckey and Bush Stones
What's wrong? Didn't think we strong with real niggas?
Roll like a boss in the streets, they still feel us
It's real business, y'all ain't caught the concept
You're talking nonsense to walking bomb threats
Contact was blown by Benzetta in The Source
Threaten at the boss, you gon' see me on your porch
Now Irv got the nerve to try to serve on us
But Detroit niggas early and ain't scurred to bust

Word to my nigga Bugz, punks like you get beat up
Stomped unconscious and smacked with the heater
This rap cookie monster get jabbed in the tonsils with dicks so much that he should be fixed with a vagina
Who's behind ya? Cadillac, Pac or that transvestite
That dress like a Lil Kim fox?
You're just like a little windbox
When I press tight on the trigger of this Glock
Now, swallow that little shit you got left to help you eat
You knock Pac's songs without love will help you sleep
You got shot in your video, tryna mock Pac
You're “Mockaveli”, get your own identity
Yeah!
Doe-rae-me, fa-so-la-ti-da (Don't you never say my little girl's name in a song again)
Don't blame me ‘cause your washed up, lost your spot
Mama-say-mama-sa-ma-macosa (Fuckin' punk-pussy bitch)
Ja, quit playin', knock it off, you're not 2Pac (I'll fuck you up, boy)
Don't hate me, (Never!) 'cause I'm too hot and you're not (Don't you never in your motherfuckin' life)
Shootin' at me with the only shot you got (Choke the shit out you, you little motherfuckin' midget)
Ja, quit playin', knock it off, you're not 2Pac
You'll get popped, poppin' all that shit you pop (Hailie'll whip your motherfuckin' ass)

Yeah!
That's right, motherfuckers
Shady Records! What you know about it!?
Fuck Benzino
Fuck Ja Rule
Nigga
This Obie Trice right here talkin' to you, motherfuckers
Ja Rule punk ass
Yeah!
Fuckin' Soul 4 Real ass
Nigga, that's Soul 4 Rea!
That's the nigga from Soul 4 Real
Candy Rain-ass nigga, he got a deal, now he rappin'
You don't know what's
Faggot-ass motherfuckers
Get money to all my real niggas, man
Obie Trice
D12
G-Unit
50 Cent
Hailie Jade
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Daddy, is Ja Rule taller than me?
No, honey, you, guys, are the same size
Ha-ha-ha-ha