Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

just hit me on a text
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm sorry you want me to have a heart attack
Was 8 Mile on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to call you
that autograph 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 gun
And have a
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the fire
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to Interscope and you're
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die 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 albums that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I don't do
Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin'
But you're a fuckin' hill
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 run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the only time you hold (hold up)
Are you eating or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading
...Dictionary...
"Yo, Slim, your last 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 money in '02
To it in front of you, ho
me? No, you're the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd be 80-year-old me than 20-year-old you
'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent your day
Shootin' a video just to fuckin' dig own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat
You ain't never made a list to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you 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 flops are your greatest
The game's mine again and ain't nothin' but the locks
So I slay 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 bliss 'cause I said his name
Now I gotta back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this!

It's moment
is it, as big as you're gonna 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
look 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 to be as solidified
mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' gun when it's out of ammo?
Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the fuck can him and I
have to fuck Kim in my flannel
I'll him my sandals
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to in my shadow
Exhausting, letting off on my
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance around it a sombrero, we can all see
You're fuckin'
'Cause Young Gerald's inside of Halsey
Your red sweater, your black
You better, I rap better
That a threat or a love letter?
white toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you,
for dissing 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 want 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 boss pops 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 sick of you bein'
And still usin' that Auto-Tune
So let's talk it (let's talk about it)
I'm sick of your mumble rap
to get the cock up out it
Before we can even talk about it (talk it)
I'm sick of your hair and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the and think
you're Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't mean you are, and you're not 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