Lirik Lagu Killshot - eminem
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You sound like a bitch, bitchShut the fuck up!When your fans become your hatersYou done?Fuckin' beard's weirdAll rightYou yellin' at the mic, you weird beardWe doin' this onceYou yellin' at the mic, your beard's weirdWhy you yellin' at the mic? (Illa)
Rihanna just hit me on the textLast night I left hickeys on her neckWait, you just dissed me? I'm perplexedInsult me in a line, compliment me on the nextDamn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a heart attackWas watchin' 8 Mile on my NordicTrackRealized I forgot to call you backHere's that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter capStan, Stan, sonListen, man, Dad isn't madBut how you gonna name yourself after a damn gunAnd have a man-bun?The giant's woke, eyes open, undeniableSupplyin' smoke, got the fire stokedSay you got me in a scope, but you grazed meI say one call to Interscope and you're SwayzeYour reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"So before you die let's see who can out-petty whoWith your corny lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, oohBut I'm 45 and I'm still outselling youBy 29, I had three albums that had blewNow let's talk about somethin' I don't really doGo in someone's daughter's mouth stealin' foodBut you're a fuckin' mole hillNow I'ma make a mountain out of you, woo!Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrowGunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and arrowSay you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)Playin' dead, that's the only time you hold still (hold up)Are you eating cereal or oatmeal?What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios?'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material…Dictionary…"Yo, Slim, your last four albums suckedGo back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums agoWhat do you know? OopsKnow your facts before you come at me, lil' goofLuxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough money in '02To burn it in front of you, hoYounger me? No, you're the wack me, it's funny but so trueI'd rather be 80-year-old me than 20-year-old you'Til I'm hitting old ageStill can fill a whole page with a 10-year-old's rageGot more fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go playFeel like I'm babysitting Lil TayGot the Diddy okay so you spent your whole dayShootin' a video just to fuckin' dig your own graveGot you at your own wake, I'm the billy goatYou ain't never made a list next to no Biggie, no JayNext to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blowKelly, they'll be putting your nameNext to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!Like the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vainAlien brain, you Satanist (yeah)My biggest flops are your greatest hitsThe game's mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the locksSo before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kissGotta wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for clickbaitIn a state of bliss 'cause I said his goddamn nameNow I gotta cock back, aimYeah, bitch, pop Champagne to this! (pop)It's your momentThis is it, as big as you're gonna get, so enjoy itHad to give you a career to destroy itLethal injectionGo to sleep six feet deep, I'll give you a B for the effortBut if I was three-foot-elevenYou'd look up to me, and for the recordYou would suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a secondLick a ballsack to get on my channelGive your life to be as solidifiedThis mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of bulletsSo what good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?Had enough of this tatted-up mumble rapperHow the fuck can him and I battle?He'll have to fuck Kim in my flannelI'll give him my sandals'Cause he knows long as I'm Shady, he's gon' have to live in my shadowExhausting, letting off on my offspringLike a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!You dance around it like a sombrero, we can all seeYou're fuckin' salty'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of HalseyYour red sweater, your black leatherYou dress better, I rap betterThat a death threat or a love letter?Little white toothpickThinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you, prickThanks for dissing meNow I had an excuse on the mic to write "Not Alike"But really, I don't care who's in the rightBut you're losin' the fight you pickedWho else want it, Kells?Attempt fails, Budden, L'sFuckin' nails in these coffins as soft as CottonelleKillshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc stillBut this idiot's boss pops pills and tells him he's got skillsBut, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day Diddy admitsThat he put the hit out that got Pac kill, ah!I'm sick of you bein' wackAnd still usin' that mothafuckin' Auto-TuneSo let's talk about it (let's talk about it)I'm sick of your mumble rap mouthNeed to get the cock up out itBefore we can even talk about it (talk about it)I'm sick of your blonde hair and earringsJust 'cause you look in the mirror and thinkThat you're Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)Don't mean you are, and you're not about itSo just leave my dick in your mouth and keep my daughter out it
Rihanna just hit me on the textLast night I left hickeys on her neckWait, you just dissed me? I'm perplexedInsult me in a line, compliment me on the nextDamn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a heart attackWas watchin' 8 Mile on my NordicTrackRealized I forgot to call you backHere's that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter capStan, Stan, sonListen, man, Dad isn't madBut how you gonna name yourself after a damn gunAnd have a man-bun?The giant's woke, eyes open, undeniableSupplyin' smoke, got the fire stokedSay you got me in a scope, but you grazed meI say one call to Interscope and you're SwayzeYour reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"So before you die let's see who can out-petty whoWith your corny lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, oohBut I'm 45 and I'm still outselling youBy 29, I had three albums that had blewNow let's talk about somethin' I don't really doGo in someone's daughter's mouth stealin' foodBut you're a fuckin' mole hillNow I'ma make a mountain out of you, woo!Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrowGunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and arrowSay you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)Playin' dead, that's the only time you hold still (hold up)Are you eating cereal or oatmeal?What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios?'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material…Dictionary…"Yo, Slim, your last four albums suckedGo back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums agoWhat do you know? OopsKnow your facts before you come at me, lil' goofLuxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough money in '02To burn it in front of you, hoYounger me? No, you're the wack me, it's funny but so trueI'd rather be 80-year-old me than 20-year-old you'Til I'm hitting old ageStill can fill a whole page with a 10-year-old's rageGot more fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go playFeel like I'm babysitting Lil TayGot the Diddy okay so you spent your whole dayShootin' a video just to fuckin' dig your own graveGot you at your own wake, I'm the billy goatYou ain't never made a list next to no Biggie, no JayNext to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blowKelly, they'll be putting your nameNext to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!Like the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vainAlien brain, you Satanist (yeah)My biggest flops are your greatest hitsThe game's mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the locksSo before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kissGotta wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for clickbaitIn a state of bliss 'cause I said his goddamn nameNow I gotta cock back, aimYeah, bitch, pop Champagne to this! (pop)It's your momentThis is it, as big as you're gonna get, so enjoy itHad to give you a career to destroy itLethal injectionGo to sleep six feet deep, I'll give you a B for the effortBut if I was three-foot-elevenYou'd look up to me, and for the recordYou would suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a secondLick a ballsack to get on my channelGive your life to be as solidifiedThis mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of bulletsSo what good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?Had enough of this tatted-up mumble rapperHow the fuck can him and I battle?He'll have to fuck Kim in my flannelI'll give him my sandals'Cause he knows long as I'm Shady, he's gon' have to live in my shadowExhausting, letting off on my offspringLike a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!You dance around it like a sombrero, we can all seeYou're fuckin' salty'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of HalseyYour red sweater, your black leatherYou dress better, I rap betterThat a death threat or a love letter?Little white toothpickThinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you, prickThanks for dissing meNow I had an excuse on the mic to write "Not Alike"But really, I don't care who's in the rightBut you're losin' the fight you pickedWho else want it, Kells?Attempt fails, Budden, L'sFuckin' nails in these coffins as soft as CottonelleKillshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc stillBut this idiot's boss pops pills and tells him he's got skillsBut, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day Diddy admitsThat he put the hit out that got Pac kill, ah!I'm sick of you bein' wackAnd still usin' that mothafuckin' Auto-TuneSo let's talk about it (let's talk about it)I'm sick of your mumble rap mouthNeed to get the cock up out itBefore we can even talk about it (talk about it)I'm sick of your blonde hair and earringsJust 'cause you look in the mirror and thinkThat you're Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)Don't mean you are, and you're not about itSo just leave my dick in your mouth and keep my daughter out it
