Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last night I left hickeys on her
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 Mile on my
Realized I 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 a man-bun?
The giant's woke, eyes open,
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to Interscope and you're
Your got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die see who can out-petty who
With your corny lines ("Slim, 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 daughter's mouth food
But you're a fuckin' mole
Now make 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, lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the time you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or
I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three ago
do you know? Oops
Know your facts before you come at me, 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, it's funny but so
I'd rather be me than 20-year-old you

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a whole page 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 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 made a list to no Biggie, no Jay
to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be your name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are your greatest
The game's mine and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for
In a state of 'cause I said his goddamn name
Now I cock back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
It's moment
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, I'll give you a B for the
But if I was
You'd look up to me, and for the
You suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
a ballsack to get on my channel
Give your to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like when he's out of bullets
So good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the fuck can him and I
He'll have to Kim in my flannel
give him my sandals
'Cause he knows, long as I'm he's gon' 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 salty
'Cause Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

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

Who else it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc
But this idiot's pops pills and tells 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 of you bein' wack
And still that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So let's talk about it (let's talk it)

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

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