Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
night I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm sorry you want me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 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 a damn 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 to Interscope and you're Swayze
Your reply got the yelling, "Woo!"
So you die let's 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 had blew
Now let's talk about I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's stealin' 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 bone
Gunner? Bitch, you a bow and arrow
Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the only time you still (hold up)
Are you eating cereal or
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your four albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three ago
do you know? Oops
Know your facts before you come at me, lil'
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
Younger me? No, the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd be 80-year-old me than 20-year-old you

I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a whole page with a rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play
like 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 a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really
Kelly, they'll be putting name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are your greatest
The game's mine again and ain't nothin' but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a
Gotta up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for clickbait
In a state of bliss 'cause I said his goddamn
Now I gotta back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
It's your
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 look up to me, and for the
You would a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
your life to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when 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 fuck can him and I
He'll to fuck Kim in my flannel
I'll give him my
'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 around it like a sombrero, we can all see
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young Gerald's inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your black
You dress better, I rap
That a death threat or a letter?
white toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't 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 losin' the fight you picked

Who want it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these coffins as as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc
But idiot's boss pops pills and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day Diddy
he put the hit out that 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 your rap mouth
Need to get the up out it
Before we can even talk it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your blonde hair and
Just 'cause you look in the and think
That you're Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't you are, and you're not about it
So just leave my in your mouth and keep my daughter out it

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