Remy Ma “ShETHER” lyrics (Nicki Minaj diss track).
(Word)You know what? Free Remy!
Fk you, Free Remy!
(Fk Nicki Minaj)
Are you dumb?
You a pink diamond chicken wing chain (Are you dumb?)
You had a leather beehive on your head (Are you dumb?)
(Fk Nicki Minaj)
Are you forgettin’ that I pressed you before, b*tch?
(Fk Nicki Minaj)
(I) f**k with your soul like shETHER
(Will) You ain’t the queen, I’ll show you
(Not) Lipo your a*s and belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already
They told you your whole career I’d come home and kill you, right? Ha-ha!
I told you I wasn’t talkin’ about your dumb ass
It looks stupid, you literally got a dumb ass
Talking cray, and we all know that you dumb ass
You get Donkey of the Day, yeah you dumb ass
Let’s be honest, you stole that line ’bout btches being your sons
How you take my ’09 jail tweet and run?
Talking ’bout bringing knives to a fight with guns
When the only shot you ever took was in your buns
And I saw Meek at All-Star, he told me your a*s dropped
He couldn’t fk you for three months because your a*s dropped
Now I don’t think y’all understand how bad her a*s got
The implants that she had put in her a*s popped
I was like, “Damn, 90 days and you couldn’t have box?
Did she at least compensate? Start giving you mad top?
Her name Minaj, right? She ain’t throw you some bad thots?”
He said “Nah,” that’s when I knew you was really a trash bop
You was screaming “Free Remy” when I was upstate doomed
But now that they freed Remy, you don’t sing the same tune
Locked me up, threw away my keys, threw away my weaves
Snatched me from my son, braids to the back, state greens
Daily News, “Her career’s over,” “She was kinda stupid,”
But you saw a opportunity ’cause you a opportunist
Left your Day 1 ’cause you heard he was on some cheat sht
Then got with the dude that told you on some creep sht
But what happened to Onika? Nah, on some G sht
Left him and took a pic with the dude he had beef with?
And we all know it was a beef that you started
Pillow-talking out of your ass, this btch retarded
Now you gotta die, you dearly departed
Blood bath when I catch you, a real red carpet!
Now what I’ma do, I’ma just stick to the facts
Bich so scared of my future, got this btch going backwards
Been through mad crews, you disloyal hoochie
Now all of a sudden you back with Drake and Tunechi?
After he said you scked his dck, you back with Gucci?
Who next, Puff, Deb or Fendi? You a A-list groupie
And to be the Queen of Rap, you gotta actually rap
The whole industry know that your sh*t is a wrap
No, to be the Queen of Rap, you can’t have a ghostwriter
And that’s why this is my house, Flo Rida
Nias done seen Drake penning, Wayne penning
And since your first boyfriend left, btch ain’t winning
You a Internet troll, a Web browser, I’m sorry
You can’t get her online with out Safaree!
Mentioning guns, you Puy Galore, James Bond
Only time you touch a trigga is when you fked Trey Songz
Coke head, you cheated on your man with Ebro
I might leak the footage of you sniffing them ski slopes
They gassing you up, but you been on E, though
Pills and Potions, yep, you been on E, hoe
Got your ghostwriters back, so you think you lit
Rem Belushi, I’m a Ghostbuster, btch
I’m supposed to be scared ’cause you bought your Barbie chain back?
I’ll revert to “Ante Up,” you’ll get your Barbie chain yapped
Tried to front in February, catch you in that Maybach
Show you how to use your name, you be using your name wack
I’m saying, how you mix Nicki with a Minaj?
I’ma park this btch, put Nicki in the garage
I’m getting money like Nicky Barnes, I’m the big homie
I responded in less than 48 hours, Nick Nolte
Getting close like Nick Jonas, gripping the gauge
Then blaze off, Face Off, btch, Nicolas Cage
You animated like Nickelodeon, you fake, btch
Only the kids believe in you, you St. Nick
Now when I shoot Nick at Nite, they won’t understand it
I’m Wild’n Out, bout to hit Nick with the Cannon
How are you on the VMAs acting like you hood?
Way across the stage, talking ’bout “Miley, what’s good?”
That’s Hannah Montana, she was always happy
You only fronted on Mariah ’cause Mariah don’t carry
Tried to disrespect Taylor ’cause Taylor wasn’t Swift enough
Pillsbury Doughgirl, Remy pick the biscuit up
I’m jealous? btch, you was happy when they took me
Best thing that ever happened to you was when they booked me
You said you never fked Wayne, how stupid I look, B?
Get the picture, I’ll expose you, I’m kind of a bully
You named yourself Nicki Lewinsky, the mind of a rookie
‘Cause you was scking his dck and now he tired of your nookie
You claimed you never fked Drake, now that’s where you took me
You fked the whole Empire, who you trying to be, Cookie?
Boogie Down Bronx, I come out of the Boogie
To let you know real b*tches never lie on their puy
And stop talking numbers, you signed a 360 deal
Through Young Money, through Cash Money, through Republic
Which means your money go through five nias before you touch it
Any videos, promotions come out of your budget
Endorsements, tour and merchandise, they finger-fk it
You make like 35 cents off of each ducat
I own my masters, btch, independent
So for every sale I do, you gotta do like ten
Stop comparing yourself to Jay, you not like him
You a motherfuing worker, not a boss like Rem
You’re done, them pop chicks ain’t get the news yet
Btch, I pop chicks, yeah and I’m the new Vette
I kill rappers, and you good as dead, btch
Talking sht about me to a deaf btch
And usually I have sympathy for the impaired
But not when you hard of hearing from untreated gonorrhea
But you point your fingers at me?
I’m the bad girl when she the one out here misleading the black girls?
All these fake asses influenced by that girl
Dying from botched surgeries, what a sad world
But before the butt job, you was a Spongebob
Sucking cock for records, captain of the cum squad
And I got a few words for the moms of the young Barbz
Guess who supports a child molester? Nicki Minaj
You paid for your brother’s wedding? That’s hella foul
How you spending money to support a pedophile?
He a walking dead man, sending threats to him
I guess that’s why they call you Barbie, you was next to Ken
Talkin’ ‘bout your money long and your foreign sick
Why you ain’t help your bro hide his cum from forensics
You probably somewhere overseas, foreign sick
Thought you could fk with me, by far Rem sick
Meek, Drake, Safaree, I see men in your pants
We call that Jelani, get it? Semen in your pants
Uh, I got trigger fingers, you got bitter fingers
Yeah, you must think you Drake and I’m Twitter fingers
VH1, watch this
You just got bodied by a Love & Hip-Hop b*tch!
Don’t ever in your fking life play with me
That’s on the set!
You tried it on the Rae Sremmurd record
You tried it on your little freestyle
They was both duds, just like every other one was duds
Just like this last one was a dud
But what you not gonna do is keep subbin’ me
I send a fking headshot, you dead, b*tch!
Will not lose!