Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
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 watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
I forgot 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 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 call to Interscope and 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 outselling you
By 29, I had three albums that had
Now let's talk somethin' I don't really do

Go in daughter's mouth stealin' food
But a fuckin' mole hill
Now I'ma make a out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, like you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and
Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the only time you still (hold up)
Are you eating 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 sucked
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 money in '02
To it in front 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

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a whole with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the Diddy so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video just to fuckin' dig your own
Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat
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 putting your
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

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

Lethal
Go to sleep six feet deep, give you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd look up to me, and for the
You would suck a to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a ballsack to get on my
Give life to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' gun when it's out of ammo?

Had of this tatted-up mumble rapper
How the fuck can him and I
He'll to fuck Kim in my flannel
I'll him my sandals
'Cause he knows, long as I'm he's gon' 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
You're fuckin'
'Cause Young Gerald's inside of Halsey

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

Who else want it? — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
But this idiot's boss pops pills and tells him 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 of your mumble rap mouth
to get the cock up out it
Before we can even talk it (talk about it)
I'm of your blonde hair and earrings
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 my dick in your mouth and keep my daughter out it

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