Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last night I left 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 watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
Realized I to call you back
that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name 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 Interscope and you're
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die 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 three albums that had
Now let's talk about somethin' I don't 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' you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow
Bitch, you ain't a bow and arrow
Say run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, the only time you hold still (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
What the in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your four albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three ago
do you know? Oops
Know facts before you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, Yeah, I had enough money in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
me? No, you're the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me than you

I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the Diddy so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video just to dig your own grave
Got you at own wake, I'm the billy goat
You ain't never a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor 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 ain't nothin' changed but the
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for clickbait
In a state of bliss 'cause I his goddamn name
Now I gotta back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
It's your
This is it, as big as gonna get, so enjoy it
Had to you a career to destroy it

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

Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the can him and I battle?
He'll to fuck Kim in my flannel
give him my sandals
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to 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
You're fuckin'
'Cause Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your black
You better, I rap better
That a death threat or a letter?
Little toothpick
Thinks it's 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 you picked

Who else want it? Kells — fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these coffins as as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm the Doc still
But this boss pops 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' that mothafuckin'
So talk about it (let's talk about it)

I'm sick of your rap mouth
Need to get the up out it
we can even talk about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your blonde hair and
'cause you look in the mirror and think
That you're Marshall (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 know I you