Die Bitches,

All you bitch ass rappers,

Need to get your clip pierced,

Look at me, hip, I'm Britney Spears,

Look at the way I wear my mascara,

How you doing,

I'm Pristina Gaguilera,

And I sing songs about a genie in a bottle,

And I'm Britney Spears,

I got big tits,

I'm a role model,

To all little kids,

But i got breast implants,

That was the only way to get my chest enhanced,

And here I go with the lyrical, miracle, spiritual everytime im incredible,

With freestyles from the top that I drop,

And my instinct,

Is to kill NYSNC*,

And the Backstreet Boys,

It really doesn't matter coz' I got a scratchy voice,

Yo, check it out,

But you ask me I ain't gonna be happy til' I see every member of the Backstreet Boys,

Getting their ass beat,

In the back seat of a taxi,

And dropped of on the real backstreet,

And somebody black sees five little rich white boys,

Looking like faggets,

With the inword painted on the back of their jackets,

ohhhhh,

And god damn it,

Can't stop there,

What's up?

It's over,

And this just Shove Mcardy and Mountain Dew,

And wonder how we tune is,

Ten million