Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

You sound like a bitch,
Shut the up!
When your become your haters
You
beard's weird

You yellin' at the mic, weird beard
We doin' once
You yellin' at the mic, your weird
Why you yell at the (Illa)

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you just me? I'm perplexed
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 Mile on my
I forgot 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
The giant's woke, open, undeniable
smoke, got the fire stoked
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 somethin' I don't really do
Go in someone's mouth stealin' food
But a fuckin' mole hill
Now make a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome to my bone marrow
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 still (hold up)
Are you eating or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need material
...Dictionary...
"Yo, Slim, your four albums sucked
Go to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago
What do you know?
Know your before you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had money in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
Younger me? No, you're the wack me, funny but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me 20-year-old you
I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you 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 a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really
Kelly, they'll be putting your
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)
My biggest flops are your hits
The game's mine again and nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for clickbait
In a state of bliss 'cause I his goddamn name
Now I gotta back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this!

It's moment
This is it, as big as gonna get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a career to it
Lethal
Go to sleep six feet deep, I'll you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd look up to me, and for the
You would suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a
Lick a ballsack to get on my
Give your life to be as
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when out of bullets
So what good is a machine gun when it's out of ammo?
Had enough of this tatted-up mumble
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 he's gon' have to live in my shadow
Exhausting, off on my offspring
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance around it a sombrero, we can all see
You're salty
Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey
Your red sweater, black leather
You dress better, I rap
That a threat or a love letter?
Little white
Thinks over 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 in the right
But you're losin' the fight you
Who else it? Kells—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 boss pops pills and tells him he's 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 let's talk about it (let's talk it)
I'm sick of your rap mouth
to get the cock up out it
Before we can even about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your hair and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the and think
That you're Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't mean you are, and you're not it
So just my dick in your mouth and keep my daughter out it

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