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

Rihanna hit me on a text
night I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just dissed me? I'm
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you me to have a heart attack
Was 8 Mile on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to 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 yourself after a damn gun and have a
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the fire
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one to Interscope and you're Swayze
Your reply got the yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die let's see who can who
With your lines ("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 talk somethin' I don't really do

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

"Yo, Slim, your last four sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three ago
What do you Oops
Know your facts before you come at me, goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough in '02
To it in front 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

I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a 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 Diddy so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video just to fuckin' dig own grave
Got you at own wake, I'm the billy goat
You ain't made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to blow
Kelly, they'll be your name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My flops are your greatest hits
The game's again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give a kiss
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick 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)
It's moment
is it, as big as you're gonna get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a career to it

Lethal
Go to sleep six 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 to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
your life 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 of this 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 gon' 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
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of

Your red sweater, your black
You dress better, I rap
That a death or a love letter?
white toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just like you, prick
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 you're losin' the you picked

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

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

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