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

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

Here come the
One they Whitey
All you sons of
Are all
So won't the real Slim please act up?
Get up
Get your blacked up
With your name you're a candy-ass rapper
I'll smack you up, shut you off like the
Whoever you was raw, son, they lied
I that shit I spit on Dialated hurt your pride
Screamin' on a record how you wish I
But you don't wanna see me on this side
You're just a big tough guy, tryin' to act
But you won't walk a lobby without your
You pullin' my card, you ain't ridin' the train
Back in the day, kids like you got robbed for they
Step to me like a man, with the hands, and get
Matter of fact, when you see me bitch, gimme some
Yo, it's 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
your platinum blonde Caesar, you look like a ho
Like M and M stands for Marilyn
Talkin' 'bout killin' sprees, you like that, yo
Makin' of enemies, but that's all for show
You ecstasy junkie, you waste of skills
ridin' my dill, stay high on pills
Yo, I you OD, don't be playin' with me
Little bitch to watch what you're sayin' to me
shit for shock value, boy, you ain't real
Turned hard the day Dre you a record deal
You and sold your soul for some mass appeal
Servin' up that hors d'oeuvre, kid, now eat this
of worryin' about who you should be dissin'
You to worry about who your wifey been kissin'
Or if you go to while you're doin' your bid
I'll look in on your lady and do things for kid
Make her write you lots of about the things that we did
And you pictures of me chillin' 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 like a pussy with your eyes on the floor
While your crew showed me love outside the door
Talkin' 'bout "Yo, whassup, you Whitey Ford?
I love that 'What It's Like' and that jam 'Praise the Lord'"
I don't do for the money, yo, I do it for fun
You might hang around some gangstas, but you 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 your woman from goin'
Better run and your kid for your DNA
I take of my moms, you get sued by yours
your corny metaphors about drugs and crack whores
You're a

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