Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

You sound a bitch, bitch
Shut the up!
your fans become your haters
You
Fuckin' weird

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

just hit me on a text
Last night I hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just dissed me? I'm
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a attack
Was 8 Mile on my NordicTrack
I forgot to call you back
Here's that autograph for your daughter, I it on a Starter cap

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

Go in someone's daughter's stealin' food
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 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 eating cereal or
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or
'Cause I'm a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four albums
Go to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago
What do you know?
Know your facts before you at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had money in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
Younger me? No, the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me 20-year-old you

'Til I'm 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
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the okay so you spent your whole day
a video just to fuckin' 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 Swift and Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting your
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker Hailie in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

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

Lethal
Go to sleep six feet deep, I'll give you a B for the
But if I was
You'd up to me, and for the record
You would suck a to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
Give life to be as solidified
This shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So good is a fuckin' machine gun when 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
give him my sandals
'Cause he knows, as I'm Shady he's gon' 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 salty
Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your leather
You better, I rap better
That a threat or a love letter?
white toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't you, prick
Thanks for me
Now I had an excuse on the mic to "Not Alike"
But really, I don't care who's in the
But losin' the fight you picked

Who want it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these coffins as as Cottonelle
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
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
That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah!
I'm sick of you bein'
And usin' that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So let's talk it (let's talk about it)

I'm sick of your mumble rap
Need to get the up out it
Before we can even about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your blonde and earrings
'cause you look in the mirror and think
That Marshall 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 playin', Diddy
You know I you