You sound like a bitch, the fuck up! When your become your haters You Fuckin' weird You at the mic, fuckin' weird beard We doin' once You yellin' at the mic, your beard's Why you at the mic? (Illa)
Rihanna just hit me on a 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 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 yourself after a damn gun and have a man-bun? 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 and you're Swayze Your reply got the yelling, "Woo!" So before you die let's see who can who With your lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh But I'm 45 and I'm still you By 29, I had three albums that had Now talk about somethin' I don't really do
Go in someone's mouth stealin' food But you're a 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 a bow and arrow Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, lead (brrt) Playin' dead, that's the only you hold still (hold up) Are you eating or oatmeal? What the in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios? 'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need material ...Dictionary...
"Yo, Slim, last four albums sucked Go to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago do you know? Oops Know facts before you come at me, lil' goof Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough in '02 To it in front of you, ho Younger me? No, you're the wack me, funny but so true I'd rather be 80-year-old me than you
I'm hitting old age Still can fill a whole page with a 10-year-old's Got more than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay Got the Diddy so you spent your whole day Shootin' a video just to fuckin' dig own grave Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat You never made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay Next to Taylor Swift and Iggy ho, you about to really blow Kelly, they'll be your name Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker! Like the last sayin' Hailie in vain Alien brain, you (yeah)
My biggest flops are your hits The game's mine and ain't nothin' changed but the locks So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give a kiss wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?) Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for In a state of bliss I said his goddamn name Now I cock back, aim Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop) It's moment This is it, as big as gonna get, so enjoy it Had to you a career to destroy it
injection Go to sleep six feet deep, give 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 mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo 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 fuck can him and I He'll have to fuck Kim in my I'll him my sandals 'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to in my shadow Exhausting, off on my offspring a gun barrel, bitch, get off me! You dance it like a sombrero, we can all see You're fuckin' 'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of
red sweater, your black leather You better, I rap better That a death threat or a love Little toothpick it's over a pic, I just don't like you, prick Thanks for me Now I had an excuse on the mic to "Not Alike" But really, I don't who's in the right But you're losin' the fight you
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 pills and tells him he's got skills But, Kells, the day you put out a the day Diddy admits he put the hit out that got Pac killed, ah! I'm sick of you wack And still usin' mothafuckin' Auto-Tune So let's talk about it (let's talk it)
I'm sick of your rap mouth Need to get the up out it Before we can even talk about it (talk it) I'm sick of your hair and earrings Just 'cause you in the mirror and think That you're Mathers (Marshall Mathers) Don't mean you are, and not about it So just leave my dick in your and keep my daughter out it
You fuckin'... oh And I'm playin', Diddy You I love you