Eminem – Killshot Lyrics | English

Eminem Killshot Lyrics English song

Song Description

Eminem Killshot Lyrics English song

Song Title: KillShot

Singer: Eminem

Album: Kamikaze

Produced by:  IllaDaProducer


Killshot Lyrics – Eminem

You sound like a bitch, bitch
Shut the fuck up!
When your fans become your haters
You done?

Et canetis sicut canis, canis exprimamus
Clauseruntque FUTUO ascendit?
Et facti sunt fans tibi inimici tui
Et factum est?

Fuck, your beard’s weird
You yellin’ at the mic, you weird beard
We doin’ this once
You yellin’ at the mic, your beard’s weird
Why you yellin’ at the mic? (Illa)

Fortuna, tuus barbatum fatum est scriptor
Yellin vos, cum mic, et cerritulus barbatum
Nos doin ‘hoc iterum
Et Yellin ‘in microform tuus barbatum fatum est scriptor
‘Quid ad te Yellin microform? (Dies Illa)

Rihanna just hit me on the 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

Album iustus ledo me in illud
I sinistram heri hickeys in collo eius
Exspecta, dissed vos iustus me? Me perplexum
Insultet linea, altera mihi honorare

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

Damnant, sum vere paenitet tibi vis habere cor impetum
VIII Mile watchin ‘cum a me NordicTrack
Excidit revocare intellexit

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?

Hic est, quod propter filiam autographo, quod scripsi in c Coepi
Michael, Michael, filii, audite: quis, pater non ad insaniam convertunt
Sed quomodo te agnus dei nomen Damnare cum gun
Et quis est, saliva lupae?

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

Quod ingentes excitant, oculis apertis, haud dissimulanda percipitur
Supplyin fumo retorsit stoked igni
Dic ergo obsecro te possedi in scope, sed mihi paludis virecta carpebant
Dico autem et voca ad te Interscope 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

Vociferantibus autem ad populum tuum “Appetat”
Sic lets ‘animadverto quis prius moriatur, qui non potest de pusillum,
Cum COLLYRICUS lineae ( “Stabat, senex vestri ‘”) – Officium Prima, Kelly, ooh
Sed tamen ego sum XLV et vos outselling

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

XXIX Et qui erant per gyrum castrorum in tribus quae albums
Nunc lets loqui de somethin ‘non realiter facere
Ad aliquis filia est, in ore Stealin ‘cibum
Sed vestri ‘in fuckin’ collis talpa

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)

Milesque bonus autem et de monte te deinde rogabo?
Ho, gelidus, discoideum actin, tamquam vas meam posuistis in Chrome medullae ossium
LIBRITOR? Gloria tu non sagittis et arcu
Ne dicas te current, similis mei usque ad phone libellum, sprayin ‘plumbum (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?

Puer, mortuis autem quod tantum tempus habere non tamen (usque teneat)
Tu manducans cerealia aut oatmeal!
Quid in irrumabo est in patera, lac? Aut Wheaties Cheerios?

‘Cause I’m takin’ a shit in ’em, Kelly, I need reading material
“Yo, Slim, your last four albums sucked
Go back to Recovery,” oh shoot, that was three albums ago

‘Takin causa Im’ in assis ’em, Kelly, opus est materia legere
Dictionary … …
‘Antonio: Stabat tuus postremo ebibitur quattuor albums
Redire ad Recuperatio “O mitterent, tres illius fuit abhinc albums

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

Quid si nosti? Oops
Quae scire antequam venias ad me Lil goof
Luxuria O habebat canis? Sane ’02 Satis pecuniae

To burn it in front of you, ho
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

Adolere vides, o
Iuniore mecum? Nec tu es wack ad me, suus ‘ridiculam et est verum
Ego vellem magis quam LXXX annos XX annos a me et vos
Til ego probabilitatem bonam senectutem

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

Adhuc integrum decennium annorum iram page
Fans obtinuit magis quam in urbe tua Lil ‘kiddy, ire ludere
Song sentio amo Im ‘babysitting Taum

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

Sic tibi bonus diei consumpta tulit Diddy
Shootin, video iustum ad fuckin, fode sepulcrum tuum
Surrexit autem excito tuo: Ego sum, et hirco
Numquam tu non fecerunt iuxta album non Biggie non 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

Deinde ut Beatles et quietus ho te ut rem succendam
Kelly ponere erunt nominis tui
Deinde ut, sancti postero die-ut Benzino, motherfucker!
Velut ultima motherfucker sayin ‘Hailie frustra

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

Aliena cerebrum tu Satanist (yeah)
Carmina tua mea maxima flops
In ludo non est mea, et rursus nil, nisi mutata seras
Itaque priusquam interficiam canis sum, Mwah, da oscula Jade

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

Redditus est excitare labore ad hanc (de irrumabo?)
Bein ‘-dives erubescunt in via quidam enim nomen’ idest usin clickbait
In statu beatitudinis existentes, ut dicitur causa sui nominis goddamn
Nunc ego Redditus est nobis gallus retro, 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

Yeah, canis, hoc Campanie pop! (Pop)
Hoc tempore suus ‘vestri
Hoc autem, quod pro magno es agnus dei adepto ut frui eam
Et dare vitam perdere
letalis iniectio

Go to sleep six feet deep, I’ll give you a B for the effort
But if I was three foot 11
You’d look up to me, and for the record
You would suck a dick to fuckin’ be me for a second

Sex cubitorum somnum dabo tibi pro opere C
XI Et si pes fui tribus
Tu vellem respice ad me et pro censu
Et hoc est fuckin irrumatus lac ‘sit mihi alter

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?

A Lick ballsack ut in me channel
Da ut anima tua ut solidified
Hoc mothafuckin ‘stercore similis est Rambo cum ex indicibus
Quod ergo bonum est fuckin ‘apparatus gun, cum de animo est?

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

Quod satis est, ex hoc nunc profatu vocis incerto tatted Rapper
Quomodo autem potest ei et irrumabo pugnam?
Quod youll ‘have XVI Pedicabo Kim in flannel
Et dabo ei solve calciamentum pedum meorum

Cause he knows long as I’m Shady, he’s gon’ have to live in my shadow
Exhausting, letting off on my offspring
Like a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance around it like a sombrero, we can all see

‘Tenebrae causa quia nescit quamdiu sum, hes’ gon ‘est vivere in umbra
Numquam exhausti satis est: et submiserunt Hinc fetus meum
Sicut gun doliolum, canis, salvum me!
Saltare circa sicut sombrero est, videre non possumus omnes,

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

Vestri ‘fuckin’ Salsum
‘Fac Young scriptor balls-Gerald of abyssi in medio Halsey
Tua thoracem laneum rubrum, nigrum tuis corium
Exhiberet convivium tibi melius est, ut melius corradere,

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

Quod periculum mortis vel ad amorem litteras?
Parva album SPINA
Cogitat enim pic suus ‘super, me non modo ut tu, idest
Gratias dissing in 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?

Iam pridem habebat et causam super microform scribere, “non simul”
Sed re vera, quia non curat quis in dextro
At tu losin ‘pugna et sustulit
Qui aliud volunt eam erat verbum?

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

Conatus defecerunt: John Budden: L’s
Fuckin, quasi clavi in ​​loculis adservatos illa mollis est Cottonelle
Killshot ego non deficient ego vobiscum sum usque mu
Sed hoc dominus scriptor stultus operculum amovet anus pillulas et jussu narrat artes sibi hes ‘got

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’ whack

At erat verbum, et posuistis de die in diem hit Diddy admittit,
Et posuit got hit ut PAC occidi, ah!
Im ‘male de te auae’ TAX

And still usin’ that mothafuckin’ 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

Et tamen usin ‘quod mothafuckin’ Auto-Tune
Sic lets loqui ei (lets loqui de quod)
Aeger sum tui oris nunc profatu vocis incerto ICTUS
Ex hoc est necessitas cantavit gallus

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

Antequam etiam potest loqui eam (Disputatio de quod)
Me flava comas infirmum tuum, et circulos
Iustus ‘causa vos vultus in speculo, et putat

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

Quod tu Eminem (Eminem)
Ne sit tibi, et tu non de illa
Sic mox relinquere me filia mea custodite, et ex eo irrumatus

You fuckin’… oh
And I’m just playin’, Diddy
You know I love you

O Vos fuckin
Sicut et ego playin ‘, Diddy
Tu scis te amo


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