Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

just hit me on a text
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
me in a line, compliment 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
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 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 call to Interscope and you're
Your reply got the 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 albums had blew
Now let's about somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth food
But you're a fuckin' mole
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 you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the time you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating 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, last four albums sucked
Go to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago
What do you know?
Know your 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, funny but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me than you

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a whole page with a 10-year-old's
Got more fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the okay so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at own wake, I'm the billy goat
You never made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be your name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

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

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

Had enough of this tatted-up rapper
How the can him and I battle?
He'll have to Kim in my flannel
give 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
That a threat or a love letter?
Little white
Thinks it's over a pic, I don't like you, prick
for dissing 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 it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' 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 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 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 blonde hair and earrings
'cause you look in the mirror and think
That Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
mean you are, and you're not about it
So just leave my dick in your mouth and my daughter out it

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