Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

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

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name yourself after a damn gun and 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 you die let's see who can out-petty who
With your lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm outselling you
By 29, I had albums that had blew
Now let's talk about I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's stealin' food
But you're a mole hill
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 you'll run up on me like a bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the only time you still (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I reading material
...Dictionary...

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

'Til I'm old age
Still can a whole page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat
You never made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My flops are your greatest hits
The game's mine again and nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, 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 'cause I said his goddamn
Now I gotta back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
your moment
This is it, as big as gonna get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a to destroy it

injection
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 dick to fuckin' be me for a
a ballsack to get on my channel
Give life to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of

Had enough of 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, long as I'm Shady gon' have to live in my shadow
Exhausting, off on my offspring
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You around it like a sombrero, we can all see
fuckin' salty
'Cause Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, black leather
You dress better, I rap
That a death threat or a letter?
Little toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I 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 fight you

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

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

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