Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last night I left hickeys on her
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm sorry you want me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 Mile on my
Realized I forgot to 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 after a damn gun and 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 let's see who can who
With your corny lines ("Slim, 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 really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth food
But you're a mole hill
Now I'ma make a out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my marrow
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 time you hold (hold up)
Are you eating cereal or
What the 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 back to Recovery," oh shoot, was three albums ago
What do you Oops
Know your facts before you at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had money in '02
To it in front of you, ho
Younger me? No, you're the me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be me than 20-year-old you

I'm hitting old age
Still can a whole page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent your day
Shootin' a just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy
You ain't never a list next 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 last sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

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

injection
Go to sleep six 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 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 fuckin' machine gun when 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
give him my sandals
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady gon' have to live in my shadow
Exhausting, off on my offspring
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance it like a sombrero, we can all see
You're salty
'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep of Halsey

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

Who else it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc
But this idiot's boss pills and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a the day Diddy admits
he put the hit out that got Pac killed, ah!
I'm sick of you wack
And still that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So let's talk it (let's talk about it)

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

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