Перевод песни Killshot - Eminem

You sound like a bitch, bitch

Shut the fuck up

When your fans become your haters

You done?

Fucking beard's weird

Alright

You yelling at the mic, fucking weird beard

We doing this once

You yelling at the mic, your beard's weird

Why you yell at the mic?

Rihanna just hit me on a text

Last night I left hickeys on her neck

Wait, you just dissed me? I'm perplexed

Insult me in a line, compliment me on the next

Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a heart attack

Was watching 8 Mile on my NordicTrack

Realized I forgot to call you back

Here's that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter cap

Stan, Stan, son

Listen, man, Dad isn't mad

But how you gonna name yourself after a damn gun

And have a man-bun?

The giant's woke, eyes open, undeniable

Supplying smoke, got the fire stoked

Say you got me in a scope, but you grazed me

I say: one call to Interscope and you're Swayze

Your reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"

So before you die let's see who can out-petty who

With your corny lines ("Slim, you're old") ow, Kelly, ooh

But I'm 45 and I'm still outselling you

By 29, I had three albums that had blew

Now let's talk about something I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealing food

But you're a fucking mole hill

Now I'ma make a mountain out of you , woo!

Ho, chill, acting like you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow

Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and arrow

Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, spraying lead

Playing 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 taking a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material

...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four albums sucked

Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago

What do you know? Oops

Know your facts before you come at me, lil' goof

Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough money in '02

To burn it in front of you

Younger me? No, you're the wack me, it's funny but so true

I'd rather be 80-year-old me than 20-year-old you

'Til I'm hitting old age

Still can fill a whole page with a 10-year-old's rage

Got more fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play

Feel like I'm babysitting Lil Tay

Got the Diddy okay, so you spent your whole day

Shooting a video just to fucking dig your own grave

Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy goat

You ain't never made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay

Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow

Kelly, they'll be putting your name

Next to Ja, next to Benzino - die, motherfucker!

Like the last motherfucker saying Hailie in vain

Alien brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My biggest flops are your greatest hits

The game's mine again and ain't nothing changed but the locks

So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss

Gotta wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)

Being rich-shamed by some prick using my name for clickbait

In a state of bliss 'cause I said his goddamn name

Now I gotta cock back , aim

Yeah, bitch, pop Champagne to this! (pop)

It's your moment

This is it, as big as you're gonna get, so enjoy it

Had to give you a career to destroy it

Lethal injection

Go to sleep six feet deep, I'll give you a B for the effort

But if I was three-foot-eleven

You'd look up to me, and for the record

You would suck a dick to fucking be me for a second

Lick a ballsack to get on my channel

Give your life to be as solidified

This mothafucking shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets

So what good is a fucking machine gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of this tatted-up mumble rapper

How the fuck can him and I battle?

He'll have to fuck Kim in my flannel

I'll give him my sandals

'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gonna have to live in my shadow

Exhausting, letting off on my offspring

Lick a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!

You dance around it like a sombrero, we can all see

You're fucking salty

'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your black leather

You dress better, I rap better

That a death threat or a love letter?

Little white toothpick

Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you, prick

Thanks for dissing me

Now I had an excuse on the mic to write "Not Alike"

But really I don't care who's in the right

But you're losing the fight you picked

Who else want it? Kells - attempt fails! Budden - L's!

Fucking nails in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle

Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc still

But this idiot's boss pops pills and tells him he's got skills

But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day Diddy admits

That he put the hit out that got Pac killed, ah!

I'm sick of you being wack

And still using that mothafucking Auto-Tune

So let's talk about it (let's talk about it)

I'm sick of your mumble rap mouth

Need to get the cock up out it

Before we can even talk about it (talk about it)

I'm sick of your blonde hair and earrings

Just 'cause you look in the mirror and think

That you're Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)

Don't mean you are, and you're not about it

So just leave my dick in your mouth and keep my daughter out it

You fucking- oh

And I'm just playing, Diddy

You know I love you