Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

You sound like a bitch,
the fuck up!
When your fans become your
You
Fuckin' beard's

You yellin' at the mic, fuckin' weird
We doin' this
You at the mic, your beard's weird
Why you at the mic? (Illa)

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last night I hickeys on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a heart
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to call you
Here's that for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna yourself after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
smoke, got the fire stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one to Interscope and you're Swayze
Your 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 about somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin'
But a fuckin' mole hill
Now I'ma a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you a bow and arrow
Say run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, the only time you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your four albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three ago
What do you Oops
Know facts before you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, Yeah, I had enough money in '02
To it in front of you, ho
Younger me? No, the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me 20-year-old you

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

My biggest flops are your hits
The game's again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give a kiss
Gotta up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by prick usin' my name for clickbait
In a state of bliss I said his goddamn name
Now I cock back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
your moment
This is it, as big as you're gonna get, so it
Had to give you a career to it

Lethal
Go to sleep six feet deep, give you a B for the effort
But if I was
look up to me, and for the record
You would suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a
a ballsack to get on my channel
Give life to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of
So what good is a fuckin' 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
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' to live in my shadow
Exhausting, off on my offspring
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance it like a sombrero, we can all see
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young Gerald's inside of Halsey

red sweater, your black leather
You dress better, I rap
That a threat or a love letter?
Little white
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you,
for dissing me
Now I had an on the mic to write "Not Alike"
But really, I don't who's in the right
But you're the fight you picked

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

I'm sick of your 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
'cause you look in the mirror and think
That Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't mean you are, and you're not it
So just leave my dick in mouth and keep my daughter out it

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