Killshot Lyrics-Eminem

 “Killshot” Lyrics-Eminem

“Killshot” is a song, performed by American rapper Eminem. The song was written by Eminem in just 13 minutes and produced by Illa da. The song “Killshot” was Eminem’s response to Machine Gun Kelly’s (MGK) diss track “Rap Devil”.

On 14 September 2018, the song was released. After released, the song “Killshot” reached number three on the US Billboard Hot 100 in its first week.

 After released on YouTube, the song “Killshot” received over 30 million views within the first 24 hours and became the eleventh most-viewed online video in the first 24 hours. The song “Killshot” has been received over 367.4 million views on YouTube as of November 2020.

Singer: Eminem

Songwriter(s): Marshall Mathers, Ray Illya, Fraser

Released: September 14, 2018

Genre: Hip hop, hardcore hip hop, trap

Length: 4:14

Producer(s): IllaDaProducer

Label: Shady, Aftermath, Interscope

“Killshot” Lyrics

You sound like a bitch, bitch 

Shut the fuck up 

When your fans become your haters 

You done? 

Fuckin' beard's weird 

Alright 

You yellin' at the mic, 

Fuckin' weird beard (You want smoke) 

We doin' this once 

You yellin' at the mic, 

Your beard's weird 

Why you yell at the mic? (Illa) 

  

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 watchin' 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 

Supplyin' 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 somethin' 

I don't really do 

Go in someone's daughter's 

Mouth stealin' food 

But you're a fuckin' mole hill 

Now I'ma make a mountain 

Out of you, woo! 

Ho, chill, actin' 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, 

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 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,

Ho younger me?  

No, you 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 ten-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 

Shootin' a video 

just to fuckin' 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 sayin' 

Hailie in vain 

Alien brain, you Satanist (Yeah) 

My biggest flops are your greatest hits 

The game's mine again 

And ain't nothin' changed but the locks 

So before I slay this bitch I, 

Mwah, give Jade a kiss 

Gotta wake up Labor Day to this 

Bein' rich-shamed by some prick 

Usin' 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 fuckin' 

Be me for a second 

Lick a ballsack to get

On my channel 

Give your life to be as solidified 

This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo 

When he's out of bullets 

So what good is

A fuckin' 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 gon' 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 fuckin' 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 losin' the fight 

You picked 

Who else want it? Kells? 

Attempt fails! Budden, L's! 

Fuckin' 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 bein' wack 

And still usin' that mothafuckin' 

Auto-Tune 

So 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 fuckin'... oh 

And I'm just playin', Diddy 

You know I love you