Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last night I hickeys on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a attack
Was watchin' 8 Mile on my
Realized I forgot to you back
Here's that autograph for your daughter, I it on a Starter cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name yourself after a damn gun and have a
The giant's woke, open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to and you're Swayze
Your got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die let's see who can who
With your 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 you're a fuckin' hill
Now make a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my bone
Bitch, you ain't a bow and arrow
Say run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the only you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating or oatmeal?
the fuck's in the bowl, milk? 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, was three albums ago
What do you know?
Know your facts you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough in '02
To it in front of you, ho
me? No, you're 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 whole page a 10-year-old's rage
Got fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent your day
a video just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat
You ain't never made a next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, be putting your name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are greatest hits
The game's mine again and ain't changed but the locks
So before I slay bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some 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)
It's your
This is it, as big as you're get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a to destroy it

injection
Go to six feet deep, I'll give you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd look up to me, and for the
You suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
a ballsack to get on my channel
Give your life to be as
This mothafuckin' shit is 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 fuck can him and I
have 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
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep of Halsey

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

Who else want it? — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
nails in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc
But this idiot's boss pops pills and tells him 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 sick of you wack
And still usin' that Auto-Tune
So let's talk it (let's talk about it)

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

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