Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

You sound a bitch, bitch
the fuck up!
When your fans become your
You
Fuckin' weird

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

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

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name yourself after a gun and have a man-bun?
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 Interscope and Swayze
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die let's see who can who
your 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 about somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's stealin' food
But a fuckin' mole hill
Now make a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome to my bone marrow
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 you hold still (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your four albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was albums ago
do you know? Oops
Know facts before you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, Yeah, I had enough money 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 80-year-old me 20-year-old you

'Til I'm old age
Still can a whole page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent 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 list to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

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

Lethal
Go to sleep six feet deep, I'll you a B for the effort
But if I was
look 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
mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' gun when it's out of ammo?

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

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

Who else it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
But this boss pops pills and tells him he's got skills
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 of you bein' wack
And usin' that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So talk 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 talk about it (talk it)
I'm sick of your blonde hair and
Just 'cause you in the mirror and think
That you're Marshall (Marshall Mathers)
Don't mean you are, and not about it
So just leave my dick in your mouth and my daughter out it

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