Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm really you want me to have a heart attack
Was 8 Mile on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to call you
Here's that for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter 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
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 got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So you die let's 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 that had blew
Now let's talk somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's mouth stealin' food
But you're a fuckin' hill
Now make a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the barrel to my bone marrow
Bitch, you ain't 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 cereal or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? or Cheerios?
I'm takin' 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
do you know? Oops
Know your facts before you at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, Yeah, I had enough money in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
Younger me? No, the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be me than 20-year-old you

'Til I'm old age
can fill a whole page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the okay so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video just to fuckin' dig 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 and that 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
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My biggest flops are your hits
The game's 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' by some prick usin' my name for clickbait
In a state of 'cause I said his goddamn name
Now I gotta back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
It's your
is it, as big as you're gonna get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a to destroy it

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

Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the fuck can him and I
He'll have to fuck Kim in my
I'll him my sandals
he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to live in my shadow
Exhausting, letting off on my
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance it like a sombrero, we can all see
You're salty
Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your leather
You dress better, I rap
That a death threat or a love
white toothpick
Thinks it's a pic, I just don't like you, prick
for dissing me
Now I had an excuse on the mic to "Not Alike"
But really, I don't care who's in the
But you're the fight you picked

Who else want it? — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these coffins as soft as
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with 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
he put the hit out that got Pac killed, ah!
I'm sick of you bein'
And usin' that 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
Before we can even about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your blonde hair and
'cause you look in the mirror and think
That you're Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't 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 know I you