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 right here
To Mr. Marshall mother, yeah
This for your moms

Here the mighty
One call Whitey
All you sons of
Are all
So won't the real Slim Shady act up?
Get up
Get your blacked up
With candy-ass name you're a candy-ass rapper
I'll you up, shut you off like the Clapper
said you was raw, son, they lied
I know that shit I spit on Dialated hurt pride
Screamin' on a record how you I died
But you don't wanna see me on this side
just a big tough guy, tryin' to act hard
But you won't walk a lobby without your
You ain't pullin' my card, you ain't the train
Back in the day, kids like you got for they chain
Step to me a man, with the hands, and get slain
Matter of fact, when you see me bitch, some brain
Yo, like that, we could fight, Jack
Let's put the mics down, you'll a beatdown
I get in New York, got fam in L.A.
And I heard you might be the MC gay
With platinum blonde Caesar, you look like a ho
Like M and M for Marilyn Monroe
Talkin' killin' sprees, you ain't like that, yo
lots of enemies, but that's all for show
You punk ecstasy junkie, you waste of
Stop my dill, stay high on pills
Yo, I hope you OD, don't be with me
Little bitch to watch what you're sayin' to me
Talkin' shit for shock value, boy, you real
hard the day Dre gave you a record deal
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 be dissin'
You need to about who your wifey been kissin'
Or if you go to prison while you're doin' bid
look in on your lady and do things for your kid
Make her write you lots of letters about the that we did
And send you 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 scared like a with your eyes on the floor
your crew showed me love outside the front door
Talkin' "Yo, whassup, ain't you Whitey Ford?
I love that song 'What Like' and that jam 'Praise the Lord'"
I do this for the money, yo, I do it for fun
You might hang around some gangstas, but you one
And you be slappin' me with no empty gun
'bout a fag but you a one in drag
And you keep your woman from goin' astray
Better run and check your kid for DNA
I take care of my moms, you get sued by
With your corny metaphors about drugs and crack
a sucker

Word up, for
You wanna talk shit money, come talkin' with the hands, B
I ain't no more time with you, man, fuck that shit, that's it