Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
night I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just dissed me? I'm
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm really you want me to have a heart attack
Was 8 Mile on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to you back
that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter cap
Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you name yourself after a damn 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 and you're Swayze
Your got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die let's see who can who
With corny lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm outselling you
By 29, I had three albums had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I 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 ain't a bow and
Say you'll run up on me a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the only time you still (hold up)
Are you eating cereal or
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? 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 Oops
Know your facts before you 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 but so true
I'd be 80-year-old me than 20-year-old you
I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a whole page with a rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent whole day
Shootin' a just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy
You ain't made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
to Taylor Swift 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 nothin' changed but the locks
So I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick 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
This is it, as big as you're get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a career to it
injection
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 ballsack to get on my
Give your life to be as
This shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun it's out of ammo?
Had of this tatted-up mumble 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 he's gon' have to live 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
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of
Your red sweater, your black
You better, I rap better
a death threat or a love letter?
Little white
Thinks it's a pic, I just don't like you, prick
for dissing me
Now I had an on the mic to write "Not Alike"
But really, I don't who's in the right
But losin' the fight you picked
Who want it? Kells—attempt fails! Budden—L's!
Fuckin' nails in these coffins as soft as
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
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 Diddy
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 about it (let's talk about it)
I'm sick of mumble rap mouth
to get the cock up out it
Before we can even talk it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your hair and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the mirror and
That you're Marshall (Marshall Mathers)
mean you are, and you're not about it
So leave my dick in your mouth and keep my daughter out it

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