Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last night I hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just dissed me? I'm
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to call you
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 a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the fire
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to Interscope and you're
reply 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 albums that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I don't do

Go in someone's daughter's stealin' food
But you're a fuckin' hill
Now I'ma make a out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the 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 only time you hold (hold up)
Are you eating or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three ago
What do you know?
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, you're the wack me, it's 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 than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you your whole day
Shootin' a video 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 Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you to really blow
Kelly, they'll be your name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My biggest flops are greatest hits
The mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' by some 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 gonna get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a to destroy it

injection
Go to sleep six feet deep, I'll 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
Lick a ballsack to get on my
Give life to be as solidified
This shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun when out of ammo?

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

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

Who else want it? Kells — fails! Budden — L's!
nails in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm the Doc still
But this idiot's boss pops pills and tells him he's got
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day Diddy
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 about it (let's 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 blonde hair and
Just you look in the mirror and think
you're Marshall Mathers (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 I love you