Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you just dissed me? I'm
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm really you want me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
Realized I 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 name yourself after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
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 before you die 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 that had
Now let's about somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's stealin' food
But you're a fuckin' hill
Now I'ma make a 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 bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the time 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 back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was albums ago
do you know? Oops
Know your facts before you come at me, lil'
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had 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

I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent your day
Shootin' a video just to dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy
You ain't never a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be your name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My flops are your greatest hits
The mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by prick usin' my name for clickbait
In a state of bliss I said his goddamn name
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 give you a to destroy it

injection
Go to sleep six 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 fuckin' be me for a
a ballsack to get on my channel
Give life to be as solidified
This shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of tatted-up mumble rapper
How the can him and I battle?
He'll 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, off on my offspring
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance it like a sombrero, we can all see
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your leather
You dress better, I rap
That a death or a love letter?
Little toothpick
Thinks it's 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 care who's in the right
But losin' the fight you picked

Who want it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm the Doc still
But this idiot's boss pills and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day admits
That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah!
I'm of you bein' wack
And still usin' that Auto-Tune
So let's talk it (let's talk about it)

I'm sick of your rap mouth
Need to get the up out it
Before we can even talk it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your hair and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the and think
That Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't mean you are, and you're not it
So just leave my dick in your mouth and keep my out it

You fuckin'... oh
And I'm just playin',
You know I you