Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

just hit me on a text
Last night I left hickeys on her
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 a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 Mile on my
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 after a damn gun and have a
The giant's woke, eyes open,
smoke, got the fire stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to and you're Swayze
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die see who can out-petty who
With your lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm outselling you
By 29, I had albums 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 I'ma make a out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you a bow and arrow
Say you'll run up on me a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, the only time you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, Wheaties or Cheerios?
I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four albums
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three ago
What do you Oops
Know facts before you come 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 wack me, it's funny but so
I'd rather be 80-year-old me than you

I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a whole page a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the Diddy so you spent your whole 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
Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to blow
Kelly, be putting your name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My flops are your greatest hits
The game's mine again and nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for clickbait
In a of bliss 'cause I said his goddamn name
Now I gotta back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
It's your
This is it, as big as 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 up to me, and for the record
You would suck a dick to be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
Give your life to be as
This mothafuckin' shit is Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun it's out of ammo?

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

Your red sweater, your leather
You dress better, I rap
That a death threat or a letter?
Little white
Thinks it's over a pic, I 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 you picked

Who else want it? — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
But this boss pops 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 bein'
And still that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So talk about it (let's talk about it)

I'm of your mumble rap mouth
Need to get the up out it
we can even talk about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your hair and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the 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 playin', Diddy
You I love you