Did Limp Bizkit Just Roast Morgan Wallen or Pay Him a Compliment?

Limp Bizkit has released its first new song in about four years, and the reason you are reading about it here is because the title is “Making Love to Morgan Wallen.”

Not only does Wallen get a name drop in the actual song title, but he gets hit hard in the song lyrics during the third verse.

“I make this motherf—er diamond plated / Makin’ love to Morgan Wallen in an elevator / I’ll be turnin’ on you bi-ches like a generator / I’ll be the greatest motherf—er that you ever hated.”

The confusing part about these lyrics is that we can’t really tell if Limp Bizkit is roasting Wallen, or paying him a compliment.

Is Fred Durst saying that he is turning on people, or his fans, like Wallen is, or has, or will?

Or is Durst saying he and Wallen are good friends and will be or have been in an elevator together at some point?

Another possible angle is, what if Durst is saying that Wallen is the most-hated artist out there, but not for long? Because he just dropped a new song and we are going to hate Durst more than Wallen, thus making him the greatest we have ever hated.

The song itself, like any song, is up for interpretation individually, and whatever picture you paint in your head is what it is.

Only Limp Bizkit and Fred Durst know exactly why they included that line in the song, and what they were trying to portray with it.

What Are the Full Lyrics for Limp Bizkit’s “Making Love to Morgan Wallen”?

Damn, I miss you, Chester / Sending love from a bass compressor (Love you)
Ground control with a soul like Bowie / And I’ll chop you up, if I’m under pressure
I don’t really wanna brag / I’m just tellin’ motherf—ers, that I’m leavin’ with a bag
High five to the scarred and the strange (Strange) / From the outlaw, that’ll never get tamed (Wo-oh)
Bizkit beats from the pirate band (Napster) / Signed this deal with a lobster hand (Lobster)
Freestyle like a bowling pin / Flex these bars on a dolphin fin (Dolphin fin)
Life’s too short, but I can’t complain / Doin’ backflips on a candy cane
Ridе my scooter with a cape at night / And I’ma, high five mе a traffic light (Whoop-whoop)
I blink twice, then I teleport / Got kicked out of the Trump Resort (What?)
Bought this cloud on a payment plan / Then I ghosted out in a minivan
Mic in my hand like a waffle cone / Spittin’ out syrup in the Twilight Zone

Pre-Chorus:
Got no job, but I’m on the clock / And you can’t stop me, ’cause this sh-t don’t stop!

Chorus:
Hey, ladies /Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh
When you’re hot, you’re hot (Yeah) / When you’re not, you’re not (Nope)
Hey, fellas / Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh
When you’re hot, you’re hot (Yeah) / When you’re not, you’re not

B-tch, you know I’m hot (Ts-s-s) / How many licks till the pepper gon’ pop? (Pop, pop)
Told my cap it’s the CEO (Oh) / Then I moonwalked in a UFO (Oh)
Mic’d my shoes with a Christmas wreath / Droppin’ these bars, while I brush my teeth
Flippin’ this verse like a boomerang / Landed on stage in your pootie tang
Backpack filled with a new disease / Tell ’em I downed something hard to please
We don’t care, we bounce on clouds / Sing off key and we still too loud
Bizkit drops, the place explodes / Jumpin’ through life in my pantyhose

Pre-Chorus:
Still no job, but I’m on the clock / And you can’t stop me, ’cause this sh-t don’t stop

Chorus:
Hey, ladies / Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh
When you’re hot, you’re hot (Yeah) / When you’re not, you’re not (Nope)
Hey, fellas / Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh
When you’re hot, you’re hot (Yeah) / When you’re not, you’re not

Bridge:
I see through your act and I still enjoy the show / Ye-eah
No dance, no dance, no chance, no chance / No dance, no dance, no chance, no chance
No chance, no chance / No jokes, no jokes, no goats, no goats
No toast, no toast, no ghosts, no ghosts / No goats, no goats
No dance, no dance, no dance, no dance /  No dance, no dance, no dance, no dance
No dance

Breakdown:
Oh, too bad! / Too bad, gotta deal with the b-tches
Some of y’all too big for your britches / How’s about a high five for the good girls and the good guys?
Come on / Too bad, gotta deal with the b-tches
Some of y’all too big for your britches / How’s about a high five for the good girls and the good guys? / You know, who you are

Turn it up

I make this motherf—er diamond plated / Makin’ love to Morgan Wallen in an elevator
I’ll be turnin’ on you b-tches like a generator / I’ll be the greatest motherf—er that you ever hated