Ace out, about to take your ham-and-eggin’ face out
I’ll nertz so fast that everybody in the place shouts
And pees their pants, now momma has to spray Shout
On the stains, I’ll take you out of the game
Nertzin’ so fast I’ll have you shouting my name
Preceded by insults, followed by obscenities
And pitiful requests like “Let someone else try winnin’, please!”
Sour as a lemon squeeze, the men cry and the women weep
They finally all quit like a shotgun murder victim’s knees
Hurtin’ for a nertin’, that makes you nerty needers
I can nertz before you turds can run thirty meters
Alert the nerdy tweeters on twitter you’re quitters and dirty cheaters
Sitting there trying to catch me with a false nertz
When you’re the ones with tricks up the sleeves of y’alls shirts
You doofuses two-fist it, you’re limp-wristed, I’m loose-wristed
Time to call your mommies, time for them to pay you visits
You two-fistin’ Tommies
Now apologize to mommy for the extra load of laundry
With the pants you peed through
I'm mighty like the Ducks in D-2
Speaking of sequels, you're Speed 2, I'm T-2
You could tie one hand behind my back and I’d still beat you
Got a lower chance of beating me than reading ancient Hebrew

You talk big but your talk is cheap
When you’re slower than a flock of sheep
Trying to cross the street while riding Rick Ross’ beat
Meanwhile, I'm faster than Santana Moss’ feet
Your loss’ll eat at you so bad you’ll have a loss of sleep
Turn and toss and think about how you sat back while I nertzed
And how your game’s about as lame as Matt Leinart’s
You ace out, I’ll throw down a 2-3-4 ricochet
Grown man business, baby, maybe I’m too quick to play
With you kids that are slower than the ex-wife of Nick Lachey
Slower than Billy Butler and Prince Fielder in a sack race
By the time I'm done beatin' you down you'll need a back brace
I slam the cards down, hard-hittin’ like Mark Whiten
You're jarred, sittin’ there, sit and stare like you’re star-stricken
Your arm’s gettin’ too close, I’ll burn ya like charred chicken
And embarrass you so bad you’ll have red skin like Mark Rypien

You wanna beat me? Throw your plans out the door
You’re worse than the haircut on Anton Chigurh
It’s not natural, your lack of skill defies order
Like Marvo and the judges who denied Eli Porter
You have no talent, you’re no challenge, you’re inferior
When you come to the table we can all see the fear in ya

By the time you finally win we’ll be at Heritage Cafeteria
Wastin’ away, we'll be wastin’ our days
Eating Salisbury steaks and gravy on plates
Muttering through our dentures, like, “How great does this taste?”
Pouring cottage cheese on our raisins and grapes
Orange juice, liver and onions with our grape nuts and eggs
Salads with big croutons, prunes and Fig Newtons
And a bowl on the side just to put our grapefruit in
Reminiscing on the days we were nertz rap prodigies
Before we felt the need to mix all foods with cottage cheese
Back in the day when the odds of these pods of peas
Saying nertz were even worse than winning the lottery
And they whined “stop him please! There’s just gotta be
Somebody somehwere out there to end Josh’s streak
Somebody, anybody, get him off his peak
We don’t care who, so grab your local office geek
Who’s seen every single episode of Dawson’s Creek
Or the topless freak who's downtown offering
Prophecies on the corner, get him off the street!
You’re like Florida Marlins fans shouting, “Boston stinks!”
And “You’re blowing the game, ump, get off your knees!”
When in reality you're losing cause you're awful, jeez
Please, you jabronis need to stop and think
For a minute, "What's my bickering accomplishing?
I know it felt really good to give that awesome zing,
But he came back even harder, dangit, Josh is mean!"
Fellas, please, enough of the jealousy
I've smoked ya so much I'm getting yella teeth
Maybe I'm embellishing, but I'm simply relishing
In victory and polishing my trophy hella clean
I've rocked you like Helloween, let me wrap you up like cellophane
And trap you like a stapler inside Jim Halpert's Jello thing