Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you just me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a 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 yourself after a 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 and you're Swayze
Your got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So you die let's see who can out-petty who
With your corny lines ("Slim, old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm still you
By 29, I had albums that had blew
Now let's about somethin' I don't really do
Go in someone's daughter's stealin' food
But a fuckin' mole hill
Now make a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' you put the chrome barrel 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)
dead, that's the only time you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating cereal or
What the fuck's in the bowl, Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...
"Yo, Slim, last four albums sucked
Go to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago
do you know? Oops
Know your facts before you come at me, goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had money in '02
To it in front of you, ho
Younger me? No, the wack me, it's funny 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 than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you your whole day
Shootin' a just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat
You ain't never made a next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting your
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)
My flops are your greatest hits
The game's again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I 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
This is it, as big as you're get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a to destroy it
injection
Go to sleep six deep, I'll give you a B for the effort
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 ballsack to get on my
Give your life to be as
This mothafuckin' shit is Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?
Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the can him and I battle?
have to fuck Kim in my flannel
I'll him my sandals
he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to live in my shadow
Exhausting, off on my offspring
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You around it like a sombrero, we can all see
You're salty
'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep of Halsey
Your red sweater, your leather
You dress better, I rap
That a death threat or a love
Little white
Thinks it's over a pic, I just like you, prick
Thanks for me
Now I had an on the mic to write "Not Alike"
But really, I care who's in the right
But losin' the fight you picked
Who else it? Kells—attempt fails! Budden—L's!
nails in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm 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 sick of you 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 talk about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of blonde hair and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the and think
you're Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't 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 playin', Diddy
You I love you