Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna hit me on a text
night I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a heart
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
I forgot to call you back
Here's that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a 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, 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
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die see who can out-petty who
With your corny lines ("Slim, old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm still you
By 29, I had three albums that had
Now let's talk about somethin' I don't do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin'
But you're a mole hill
Now I'ma make a out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' you put the chrome 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 cereal or
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, was three albums ago
What do you Oops
Know facts before 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 be 80-year-old me than 20-year-old you

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

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

injection
Go to six feet deep, I'll 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 your to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is Rambo when he's out of bullets
So good is a fuckin' machine 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 fuck Kim in my
I'll give him my
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to 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 fuckin'
'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of

Your red sweater, black leather
You better, I rap better
That a death threat or a love
Little white
Thinks 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 losin' the fight you

Who else it? Kells — attempt 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 and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a the day Diddy admits
That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah!
I'm of you bein' wack
And still usin' mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So let's about it (let's talk about it)

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

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