Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Killer , by - Eminem. Release date: 27.05.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Killer |
| (Killer) Yeah |
| I'm a (Boy's crazy), I'm a cold-blooded (Killer) |
| Made all this money from doin' this {Yeah, look} |
| D.a. |
| got that dope |
| Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty |
| Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money |
| Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny |
| Earn it just to burn it, swag drip— |
| I used to rock a toboggan |
| Headphones around my neck, tryna be like Shady |
| Now the phone that's in my pocket seem to keep vibratin' |
| I got all these Ronnie Bennetts tryna be my baby |
| Tryna fiancé me, I take the steering wheel and drive them girls beyond crazy (Crazy) |
| I'm on a song with my idol |
| I'm a cold-blooded version of the song title |
| I put these diamonds in the ring like they was Shawn Michaels |
| I can't put the Louis V inside the wash cycle |
| I take this shit to the cleaners |
| 'Bout to cop me a Bimmer, I got a special demeanor |
| She was mine when I seen her, I'm gettin' meaner and meaner |
| Called the front desk and asked for a steamer |
| I'm a bitch bagger, not a Twitch streamer |
| I'm eatin' pizza in Little Italy, damn, I used to hit Caesars |
| She 'bout to finish, but wait a minute, it gets deeper |
| Same kid just a bit sleeker |
| Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty |
| Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money |
| Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny |
| Earn it just to burn it (Listen, uh) |
| They say my killing's horrendous, "How he still in the business?" |
| Rich as hell and it's feelin' tremendous |
| Ma dukes chillin' in Venice, compliments of her eldest, the cynic |
| Give hell with these writtens, this shit only propel my ascension |
| I held my position in any situation that's needed |
| This year I'm shittin' on niggas for the way we was treated |
| I see the impact of all my creations increasin' |
| My step in time with these Pantheons, it was all was divine |
| I'm in this moment of my life where shit is fallin' in line |
| And lookin' back, I swear to god, you'd think it all was designed |
| A true movie script, I can't really ever fuck no groupie bitch |
| All she got is diamonds on her mind on some Uzi shit |
| A whole generation of geniuses I'm influencin' |
| I only hang with real niggas who I'm congruent with |
| I manifest nothing less than the best outcome |
| Just watch my moves with this next album, nigga |
| Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty |
| Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money |
| Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny |
| Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me |
| My sentences are harsh, every single's bar's like a verdict |
| I say it with conviction, but this time you're not gonna serve it |
| But as soon as I read it, you know that you're about to get murdered |
| When I cap, it'll punish, then put you in a box like a juror |
| If there's a rapper I haven't ate (Where?) |
| We ain't battled, either that or they won't collaborate |
| 'Cause pad or paper freestyle will settle that debate (Yup) |
| I call it guillotine style 'cause even off the head, I decapitate |
| Yeah, bitch, I go harder than Carter III (What?) |
| But I think your thottie just thought of me |
| She got a body and bottom like Cardi B |
| And she be stalking me like I was broccoli |
| I'm getting brain now like a lobotomy |
| You probably thinkin' you had that shit in the bag like it's colostomy |
| It's a red alert, you better skrrt or try to get on my level first |
| Bitch, I'd had to shovel dirt and dig a hole to get on yours |
| You bum-bum, look at your broke ass (Yeah) |
| It's why you're a bum-bum (Why?) 'cause your shit is so ass (Yeah) |
| Syllable gun-guns, spits and goes "Hadoo" |
| Only L that I ever took is when I lost Proof (Yeah) |
| Only time that I ever got served is that lawsuit when Ma sued (What?) |
| But, bitch, get out of pocket and I might accost you |
| Homicides up the wazoo |
| Chain gaudy, probably got more bodi-odi-odies than John do (John do) |
| Just called Snoop and I talked to him, we all cool |
| Dre, me and the Dogg good, Doc, we got you |
| Got a castle with a solid gold floor |
| No I don't, I don't even got a boat nor |
| Do I got a chauffeur, but a lot to show for |
| You don't wanna fuck around and start no war |
| Twenty more years, I could probably go for |
| Just like your lip and you got a cold sore |
| My shit is like motherfuckin' herpes |
| You ain't ever gonna say I don't got it no more (Bitch) |
| Literally it's stupidity, you kiddin' me? |
| Dying laughing is the only way you're killing me |
| I'm getting rid of ya, get clapped like chlamydia |
| The wittiest, bitch, I'll snap like a tibia |
| You wanna get silly with the bars? |
| I'm frivolous |
| But I'm as gritty and litty as my city is |
| East side 'til I die, bitch, I will rep 'til the end like a chameleon |
| Got a killer instinct with the pen's ink and they're in sync like a faucet |
| How the fuck do I even think of this ridiculous shit? |
| I'm a quarter of a century deep and I can't be beat (Nah) |
| 'Til the day me and the grim reap meet, I'm ten toes down 'til I'm six feet deep (What?) |
| Windows down in the Benz E jeep hollerin' at a bimbo, beep-beep-beep |
| She said she fucks with the M-T-B to the M-B: Side B Slim CD |
| I can see why you envy me, you get no ass like an empty seat |
| So this shit comes with a warning for all you punks and corny |
| Little fucks, I woke up on my fuck shit this morning |
| Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty |
| Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money |
| Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny |
| Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me |
| Yeah, I'm a (Killer) |
| Yeah, I'm a what, I'm a cold-blooded (Killer) |