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 doin' once
You yellin' at the mic, beard's weird
Why you yell at the (Illa)

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
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 forgot to 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 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 you're
Your got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die see who can out-petty who
your 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 let's talk about I don't really do

Go in someone's mouth stealin' food
But you're a fuckin' mole
Now I'ma a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the barrel to my bone marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you a bow and arrow
Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' (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 a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four 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 me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me than you

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

My flops are your greatest hits
The mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a
Gotta up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some usin' my name 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 you a B for the effort
But if I was
look up to me, and for the record
You suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a ballsack to get on my
Give your to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of tatted-up mumble rapper
How the fuck can him and I
He'll have to fuck Kim in my
I'll him my sandals
he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to live in my shadow
Exhausting, off on my offspring
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance around it a sombrero, we can all see
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your black
You better, I rap better
a death threat or a love letter?
Little toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you,
Thanks for me
Now I had an on the mic to write "Not Alike"
But really, I don't who's in the right
But losin' the fight you picked

Who else it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm the Doc still
But this idiot's boss pops pills and tells him he's got
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 sick of you wack
And usin' that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So let's about it (let's talk about it)

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

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