Fred: What`s up with this fucking `Ball Tongue` shit? 

Jon: All I needed was a Pepsi... 

Fred: You better shut the fuck up, punk. 

Jon: Whatever nigga... 

Fred: Say what, say what? 

Jon: My dick is bigger than yours... 

Fred: Say what, say what? 

Jon: My band is bigger than yours... 

Fred: Too bad I got your beans in my bag, stuck-up sucka`, Korny motherfucka`. Takin` over flows is the Limp pimp, need a Bizkit to save this crew from Jon Davis. I`m gonna drop a little east side skill, ya best step back `cuz I`m `a kill, I`m `a kill. So watcha thinking Mr. Raggedy man? Doin` all you can to look like Raggedy Ann. 

Jon: I`ll Check you out punk, yes I know you feel it. You look like one of those dancers from the Hanson video, you little faggot ho. Please give me some shit to work with, `cuz right now I`m all it kid, suck my dick kid, like your daddy did. 

Fred: Who the fuck you think you`re talking to?? 

Jon: Me. 

Fred: I`m known for eatin` little whiny chumps like you. 

Jon: Whatever. 

Fred: All up in my face with that... 

Jon: Are you ready?!? 

Fred: But halitosis, is all you`re rockin` steady. You little fairy, smelling all your flowers. Nappy hairy chest, look it`s Austin Powers! 

Jon: Yeah, baby! 

Fred: I hear ya tweetin` on them fag-pipes clod, but you said it best, there`s No Place To Hide. 

Jon: What the fuck ya` sayin`? You`re a pimp whateva`, limp dick. Fred Durst needs to rehearse, needs to reverse what he`s saying. Wannabe funk joke is what you`re playin`, rippin` up a bad counterfeit, fakin`! Plus your bills I`m paying, you can`t eat that shit every day, Fred. 

Fred: Say what, say what? You better watch your fuckin` mouth, Jon. 

CHORUS: 
Jon: So you hate me? 
Fred: and I hate you! 
Jon: You know what, you know what? 
Both: It`s all in the family. 

Jon: I hate you! 
Fred: and you hate me! 
Jon: You know what, you know what? 
Both: It`s all in the family. 

Jon: Look at you fool, I`m gonna fuck you up twice, throwin` rhymes at me like, oh shit, Vanilla Ice. Ya better run, run while ya can, you`ll never fuck me up, Bisc Limpkit. At least I got a phat, original band. 

Fred: Who`s hot, who`s not? 

Jon: You. 

Fred: You best step back, Korn on the cob, you need a new job. Time to take them mic skills back to the dentist, and buy yourself a new grill. 

Jon: Fuck you. 

Fred: You pumpkin pie, I`ll jack-off in your eye. Climbing shoots and ladders, while your ego shatters. But you just can`t get away. 

Jon: Get a gay? 

Fred: `Cuz it`s doomsday kid, it`s doomsday. 

CHORUS 

Fred: You call yourself a singer? 

Jon: Yep. 

Fred: You`re more like Jerry Springer. 

Jon: Oh cool! 

Fred: Your favorite band is winger, 

Jon: Winger? 

Fred: and all you eat is Zingers. You`re like a Fruity Pebble, your favorite flag is rebel. 

Jon: Yeeeeeehaaaaaa!! 

Fred: It`s just too bad that you`re a fag, and on a lower level. 

Jon: So you`re from Jacksonville, kickin` it like Buffalo Bill. Gettin` butt-fucked by your uncle Chuck, while your sister`s on her knees waitin` for your fuckin` nut. 

Fred: Wait, where`d ya get that little dance? 

Jon: Over here. 

Fred: Like them idiots in Waco, you`re burning up in Bako where your father had your mother, your mother had your brother, it`s just too bad your father`s mad, your mother`s now your lover. 

Jon: Come on hillbilly, can your horse do a fuckin` wheelie? You love it down south, and boy, you sure do got a purdy mouth. 

CHORUS 

Jon: and I love you! 

Fred: and I want you! 

Jon: and I`ll suck you! 

Fred: and I`ll fuck you! 

Jon: and I`ll butt-fuck you! 

Fred: and I`ll eat you! 

Jon: and I`ll lick your little dick, motherfucka`. 

Fred: Say what? Say... what?