[Intro]
Yo, can you make... Can you make the metric like in his song?
You ain't got the rhymes, nor the style, you've got lame lyrics
You're as worth as a gossip magazine
This one here is the proof that you're not a true artist
In Italy, in Jamaica, you're just a tourist
You're trapped between these two worlds
In both cases you stand still, you don't make it big
There's someone who defends you, but then, quietly
They dream of rapping on stage with me
You run away from Italy 'cause of problems with taxes
Evеn Baby K rejected you from hеr album
Everyone comments every single word
I'm fighting with my brother, okay, so what?
This metric of yours that I'm using sucks
So let's stop
Download for free and go fuck yourself, download for free and go fuck yourself

[Verse 1]
Fabri Fibra
Ah
I don't understand why you're talking so much shit
If you pass me the mic, I'm gonna fucking beat you up
I know you had a dream, now you can say goodbye to it
Milan has changed since I got there
I remember like it was yesterday
First place in the top chart, the money, real money
They wanted to meet me in every neighborhood
And you, silent, while I was taking pictures
I felt your eyes on me every fucking minute
You said: "I'm doing an album"
I thought: "Help!"
Nobody noticed, like he was crying wolf
You didn't make it, you didn't sell
You're answering me because you know that it's true what I wrote on Zombie
Loser, what did you make up?
Fritz made an album, you weren't invited
Del made an album, you weren't invited
We're another State (Ahahahahah)
Not even fans in the kindergarten
Mind your fucking business, you're like Craxi in exile
Give up rap and stay among the fishes
With your money, in Italy, you can't get to the end of the month
You can't, not even close
We could organize for you a Vacca Extreme Makeover Home Edition
[Bridge]
Move that bus, move that bus
Move that bus, move that bus
New album's out soon, Squallor
New album by Fabri Fibra (New album by Fabri Fibra)
From the scene for the scene
Universal, Tempi Duri (Tempi Duri)
This is the album of the year, eh
This... This is the album of the year
Ah, I can feel it, ah
Enough, enough with this shit, put on one of my beats
Ah, before we start, do you have anything to say to me?
Go fuck yourself!
Ahahaha

[Verse 2]
Ah, who's on Guè's album, Bravo Ragazzo?
There's Vacca? No, there's Fibra, you asshole
Sick rhymes, my flow fucks you, gets in and gets out
You've just a little left like who's got AIDS
Good-for-nothing rappers, I see you, you're listening
I am always in your worst nightmares
With no house, no money
I wouldn't want to live your life even for two seconds
Only who's stupid is not afraid
People at first say my name, then they self-censor
The basic rules: one, sell records, two, play live, three, beat the check
Who are the guys that failed with rap? I want names
Yours is surely the first on the list
Desperate MCs, desperate producers
Maybe Internet confused your mind
You don't remember? I said, if you see that I'm silent and that I don't call you
That's because I'm counting cash
Rappers envy me, but they won't tell you
You couldn't do what I've done even if you lived four lives
Gangsta, gangsta, always online
You're not a gangsta, you look like a hacker
I've four bathrooms in my house, you know where I live
If you come I'm going to put your face in the toilet
I'll send this guys on a brain coma
From Marche to the north, the flavor is sour
You fall down on the beat and you crash your head
This flow is macabre, like boom, Schumacher
[Interlude]
Give me another beat

[Verse 3]
Get in the intercourse, suck this lyrics
Vacca says: "Cum in my mouth", I say: "Too soon"
People want to see blood, here it is, it comes from Vacca, why?
'Cause he's on his period; my family
Didn't respect me, now I live in a villa
And you get your tongue off the ass of Emis Killa
You can't sell a record and, out of desperation, you post photos of you fishing with your daughter
Come on, are you serious?
You never succeeded in anything
Just like these rappers that are still listening to this song
While they write about it on Facebook
My show, eighty minutes, Alcatraz, sold out
What are you making up? Bla, bla, bla
Your show reminds me of a song from The Syndrome
Scratch and scratch
You get personal, like "He doesn't fuck"
Should I get worried? Your rap is harmless
It's all fake, I smile while in my room
I'm banging this lesbian pregnant pornstar
Today, your miserable career ends
I get some Viagra and I come to fuck up your life
I'm on the cover of Rolling Stone
You're a kept man, with no job in Kingston
Brother, these rappers pump up their sales
By doing four-hundred and fifty-thousands in-store
I live in Milan, but it feels like I'm a foreigner
'Cause I grew up listening to Sangue Misto
Never been in debt, I pay the taxes and I work
Like a real man
I only have credits, people like you
That always talk about me to get some promo
[Interlude]
Am I doing good?
Go fuck yourself!

[Verse 4]
Christmas dinner, Vacca is in a bad mood
I sit at the table, a kind family
His mother asks me why I'm always alone
Then she says: "Thanks to you, today he has a job"
I tell her: "You know, ma'am, I do my best
It's a difficult environment
A lot of people try take advantage of you and to bug you"
His mother interrupts me and tells Vacca: "Ale, look! On TV there's that singer that looks like you"
I turn back and on MTV, appears Lil Wayne
Vacca jumps on the couch and start yelling: "Young Money! Voodoo Smokers Familia! Racket! Jamaica! Rap! Mum!", ah
The fuck is he talking about? And what the fuck am I doing here?
You're not on my CD, to tell you the truth
You're dead to me, when I hear your voice it seems like
It's coming from the afterlife, ah
Just like a seance
People that did nothing in their life and then criticize you
Vaccaleaks, the sensationalist magazine
The life of a loser is fucking heavy
Especially for a stoner, for seven years
I've been hiding a dead girl in my closet, and you're the next one
Fabrizio is a self-made man
I pulverize you and the Jamaicans snort you

[Interlude]
Yeah

[Verse 5]
Rap is like cinema, clapperboard, are you ready?
Gun in my hand, reload and shoot, bang, you're buried
Let's pray for this kid, who left us
Go fuck yourself!, amen
Describe me a dissing: rope around your neck, pull
This here is not a dissing: this is your funeral
The beat is the mass: everyone's listening
Friends and relatives praying, you ask: "Who died?"
But nobody can hear you, you look in the mirror, but you're not there
You run towards the mic, but you just go through it
Life is a movie, hi Slimer: Ghostbusters
Yours is not interesting, you shut down: Blockbuster

[Hook]
I attract so many faces
So many enemies
I know you're talking about me
Who knows what you're saying
You're hungry, who knows what you're saying
Rat, who knows what you're saying
You talk about me? You don't know what you're saying
Zzzzzz, electric shears

[Bridge]
Murder! Murder! Kill! Kill!
Murder! Murder! Kill! Kill!

[Verse 6]
As soon as they get off the stage
They start to speak ill of me
Ungrateful, I look at them from the top
Him and that other guy
Ungrateful
Him and that other guy
Ten grams and I'll kill you too
Every ten years, in sections of three
Nod to the rhythm, the rhymes are a blade
Zac! Blood, red like a bandana
I drink it, like a satanic ritual
While radios put on Panico
This world is esoteric
Rap skyrockets, come on, thanks to whom?
My album, Italy
Your album, imitates
You make a tour in Italy, yes, but the taxmen limit you
And to people telling me: "He's just an asshole"
I answer: "He was, in the past"
Rest in peace

[Hook]
I attract so many faces
So many enemies
I know you're talking about me
Who knows what you're saying
You're hungry, who knows what you're saying
Rat, who knows what you're saying
You talk about me? You don't know what you're saying
Zzzzzz, electric shears

[Verse 7]
The title of my fourth album is like you, Liar
An ocean of shit, you're drowning
I'm hear watching you
Blublublublublu...
Goodbye, drown, disappear
R.I.P. asshole
Stage name, name on stage
Proof of style, yours is your last name
What the fuck did you thought, that I was doing a roll call?
The rap scene opens her legs
I'm pulling my dick out
Then I get in, it's a mess
You signed with a major, thanks to whom?
That's the best part, double me
Sing the hook

[Bridge]
I attract so many faces, so many enemies
Was it good, Fabri?
Yes, that's good, you're a good singer
Yes, but on Rolling Stone...
Yes, I know, on Rolling Stone, when they asked me if I liked your songs
I told them I was more of a friend of yours than a real fan, and you took it personal
But you just can't go around talking shit about me on every interview
Dissing me, you've got my number, call me
Stop trying to get some promo with my name

[Hook]
I attract so many faces
So many enemies
I know you're talking about me
Who knows what you're saying
You're hungry, who knows what you're saying
Rat, who knows what you're saying
You talk about me? You don't know what you're saying
Zzzzzz, electric shears

[Outro]
Then, if, like...
You can't listen to what the fuck...
I just can't let the first guy that feels like it talking shit about me
And disrespecting me, after all I've done
But excuse me, who's the one that on every interview pumps Italian rap up in every way? These guys?
Go fuck yourself, man
Come on