Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

You sound a bitch, bitch
the fuck up!
When your fans your haters
You
beard's weird

You yellin' at the mic, weird beard
We this once
You yellin' at the mic, your weird
Why you yell at the (Illa)

Rihanna hit me on a text
night I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a heart
Was watchin' 8 Mile on my
I forgot to call you back
Here's that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The giant's woke, eyes open,
Supplyin' smoke, got the fire
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one to Interscope and you're Swayze
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die see who can out-petty who
With corny lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm still you
By 29, I had three albums that had
Now let's talk about I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's stealin' food
But a fuckin' mole hill
Now I'ma make a out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow
Bitch, you ain't a bow and arrow
Say you'll run up on me like a bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the time you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating or oatmeal?
What the in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was albums ago
do you know? Oops
Know your facts you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
Younger me? No, you're the wack me, it's funny but so
I'd rather be 80-year-old me than you

I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you your whole day
Shootin' a just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat
You ain't never made a list to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, be putting your name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are greatest hits
The game's mine again and nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give a kiss
wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for
In a state of bliss 'cause I his goddamn name
Now I cock back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
It's your
This is it, as big as you're get, so enjoy it
Had to you a career to destroy it

Lethal
Go to sleep six deep, I'll give you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd up to me, and for the record
You would a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
a ballsack to get on my channel
Give your to be as solidified
mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the can him and I battle?
have to fuck Kim in my flannel
I'll give him my
he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to live in my shadow
Exhausting, letting off on my
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance around it a sombrero, we can all see
You're fuckin'
Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, black leather
You better, I rap better
That a threat or a love letter?
white toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't you, prick
Thanks for me
Now I had an excuse on the mic to "Not Alike"
But really, I don't care in the right
But losin' the fight you picked

Who else want it? Kells — attempt fails! — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these coffins as as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm the Doc still
But this idiot's pops pills and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day admits
That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah!
I'm of you bein' wack
And still usin' that Auto-Tune
So let's about it (let's talk about it)

I'm sick of mumble rap mouth
Need to get the up out it
Before we can even about it (talk about it)
I'm of your blonde hair and earrings
Just you look in the mirror and think
you're Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't mean you are, and you're not it
So just leave my dick in your and keep my daughter out it

You fuckin'... oh
And I'm playin', Diddy
You know I you