You sound like a bitch, the fuck up! When fans become your haters You beard's weird You yellin' at the mic, fuckin' weird We doin' this You yellin' at the mic, your beard's 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 really sorry you want me to a heart attack Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack I forgot to call you back Here's autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter cap
Stan, Stan, son Listen, man, Dad mad But how you gonna yourself after a damn gun and have a man-bun? 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 reply got the yelling, "Woo!" So before you die let's see who can who With your corny ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh But I'm 45 and I'm outselling you By 29, I had three albums that had Now talk about somethin' I don't really do
Go in daughter's mouth stealin' food But you're a fuckin' mole Now I'ma make a 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 run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt) dead, that's the only time you hold still (hold up) Are you cereal or oatmeal? What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? or Cheerios? 'Cause I'm a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material ...Dictionary...
"Yo, Slim, your last four sucked Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was albums ago do you know? 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 Younger me? No, 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 a whole page with a 10-year-old's rage Got more fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play Feel like I'm Lil Tay Got the Diddy okay so you spent whole day a video just to fuckin' dig your 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 about to really Kelly, they'll be putting your Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker! the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain Alien brain, you (yeah)
My biggest flops are your hits The game's mine again and ain't nothin' but the locks So before I this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?) Bein' rich-shamed by prick usin' my name for clickbait In a state of bliss 'cause I said his name Now I cock back, aim Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop) your moment This is it, as big as you're get, so enjoy it Had to you a career to destroy it
Lethal Go to six feet 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 life to be as solidified This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of 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 have to Kim in my flannel I'll give him my '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 around it like a sombrero, we can all see fuckin' salty 'Cause Young Gerald's inside of Halsey
red sweater, your black leather You better, I rap better That a threat or a love letter? Little toothpick Thinks over 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 care in the right But you're losin' the you picked
Who want it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's! Fuckin' nails in these coffins as as Cottonelle Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc But this idiot's boss pops pills and tells him he's got But, Kells, the day you put out a the day Diddy admits That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah! I'm sick of you wack And still usin' mothafuckin' Auto-Tune So talk about it (let's talk about it)
I'm of your mumble rap mouth to get the cock up out it Before we can even about it (talk about it) I'm of your blonde hair and earrings Just you look in the mirror and think That you're Mathers (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 I love you