Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

just hit me on a text
Last I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm really sorry you me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
Realized I to call you back
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 after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The giant's woke, open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the fire
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to and you're Swayze
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 albums that had blew
Now let's talk about I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin'
But you're a fuckin' hill
Now I'ma a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome to my bone marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and
Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the only time you hold (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
What the in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your four albums sucked
Go to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago
What do you 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
me? No, you're the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me than 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 like I'm Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent whole day
Shootin' a video just to dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy
You never made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, be putting your name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest are your greatest hits
The game's mine again and ain't changed but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my for clickbait
In a state of bliss 'cause I said his name
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 you a career to destroy it

Lethal
Go to sleep six feet deep, I'll you a B for the effort
But if I was
look up to me, and for the record
You would a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
Give your life to be as
This mothafuckin' is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of this tatted-up rapper
How the fuck can him and I
He'll to fuck Kim in my flannel
I'll him my sandals
'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 dance it like a sombrero, we can all see
You're salty
'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of

Your red sweater, your leather
You better, I rap better
That a death threat or a letter?
white toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you,
Thanks for me
Now I had an excuse on the mic to "Not Alike"
But really, I don't who's in the right
But losin' the fight you picked

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

I'm sick of mumble rap mouth
Need to get the up out it
Before we can talk about it (talk about it)
I'm of your blonde hair and earrings
'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 in your mouth and keep my daughter out it

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