Luyện nghe bài hát Whitey's Revenge (The Eminem Diss)

Did I hurt feelings?
Uh...I'm supposed to be now, right?
Yo...I'd like to this record right here
To Mr. Mathers' mother, yeah
This one's for moms

Here the mighty
One they call
All you of Whitey
Are all
So won't the real Shady please act up?
Get up
Get eyes blacked up
your candy-ass name you're a candy-ass rapper
I'll smack you up, shut you off like the
said you was raw, son, they lied
I know that shit I spit on hurt your pride
Screamin' on a how you wish I died
But you don't see me on this physical side
You're a big tough guy, tryin' to act hard
But you won't walk a lobby without your
You ain't pullin' my card, you ridin' the train
Back in the day, kids like you got robbed for chain
Step to me like a man, with the hands, and get
of fact, when you see me bitch, gimme some brain
Yo, like that, we could fight, Jack
Let's put the mics down, catch a beatdown
I get in New York, got fam in L.A.
And I you might be the MC that's gay
With your platinum blonde Caesar, you look a ho
Like M and M stands for Marilyn
'bout killin' sprees, you ain't like that, yo
Makin' lots of enemies, but all for show
You ecstasy junkie, you waste of skills
Stop ridin' my dill, stay on pills
Yo, I you OD, don't be playin' with me
Little bitch need to what you're sayin' to me
shit for shock value, boy, you ain't real
Turned hard the day Dre gave you a record
You went and your soul for some mass appeal
Servin' up hors d'oeuvre, kid, now eat this meal
Instead of worryin' about who you should be
You to worry about who your wifey been kissin'
Or if you go to prison you're doin' your bid
I'll look in on lady and do things for your kid
Make her write you lots of letters the things that we did
And send you pictures of me all up in your crib
That shit about n' Tek? That was a fib
time you met me I showed you love in D.C.
But you were scared like a pussy with your eyes on the
your crew showed me love outside the front door
Talkin' 'bout "Yo, whassup, ain't you Whitey
I love that song It's Like' and that jam 'Praise the Lord'"
I do this for the money, yo, I do it for fun
You might hang some gangstas, but you ain't one
And you won't be slappin' me no empty gun
'bout a fag but you a one in drag
And you can't keep woman from goin' astray
Better run and your kid for your DNA
I take of my moms, you get sued by yours
With your corny metaphors about drugs and whores
a sucker

Word up, for
You wanna talk some shit money, talkin' with the hands, B
I wastin' no more time with you, man, fuck that shit, that's it