Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last night I hickeys on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a heart
Was watchin' 8 Mile on my
Realized I to call you back
Here's that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
smoke, got the fire stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one to Interscope and you're Swayze
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So you die let's see who can out-petty who
With your corny ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm still you
By 29, I had three that had blew
Now let's about somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin'
But you're a fuckin' mole
Now I'ma a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my bone
Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and
Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' (brrt)
dead, that's the only time you hold still (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four 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, Yeah, I had enough 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 me than 20-year-old you

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a whole page with a rage
Got fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent your day
Shootin' a video just to fuckin' dig 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 ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting your
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker Hailie in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My biggest flops are your hits
The game's again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' by some prick usin' my name for clickbait
In a state of 'cause I said his goddamn name
Now I gotta back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
your moment
This is it, as big as you're get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a to destroy it

injection
Go to six feet deep, I'll give you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd up to me, and for the record
You would suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a
Lick a ballsack to get on my
Give life to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun it's out of ammo?

Had enough of tatted-up mumble rapper
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 Shady he's have to live in my shadow
Exhausting, letting off on my
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance it like a sombrero, we can all see
You're fuckin'
Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your black
You better, I rap better
That a death threat or a love
white toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I don't like you, prick
for dissing me
Now I had an excuse on the mic to "Not Alike"
But really, I care who's in the right
But you're the fight you picked

Who else want it? Kells — fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these coffins as soft as
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc
But this idiot's boss pops pills and 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 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 mumble rap
Need to get the up out it
we can even talk about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your blonde and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the and think
That Marshall 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