Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

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

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name yourself a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The giant's woke, eyes open,
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to Interscope and you're
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 outselling you
By 29, I had three that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I don't do

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

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

'Til I'm old age
Still can a whole page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video just to dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat
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, they'll be putting your
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My biggest flops are your hits
The game's again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for
In a state of bliss 'cause I said his name
Now I gotta 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 to destroy it

injection
Go to sleep six feet deep, give you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd up to me, and for the record
You would suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a
Lick a ballsack to get on my
your life to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun when out of ammo?

Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the fuck can him and I
He'll to fuck Kim in my flannel
I'll him my sandals
'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 around it a sombrero, we can all see
You're salty
'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of

Your red sweater, black leather
You dress better, I rap
a death threat or a love letter?
Little toothpick
it's over a pic, I just don't like you, prick
Thanks for me
Now I had an on the mic to write "Not Alike"
But really, I care 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 pops pills and tells 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 that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So let's about it (let's talk about it)

I'm sick of your mumble rap
Need to get the up out it
Before we can even about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your blonde hair and
'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 my dick in your mouth and keep my daughter out it

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