Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

You like a bitch, bitch
the fuck up!
When your fans your haters
You
Fuckin' beard's

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

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last night I left hickeys on her
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a attack
Was watchin' 8 Mile on my
Realized I forgot to you back
Here's autograph 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, eyes open,
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 reply got the yelling, "Woo!"
So you die let's see who can out-petty who
With your corny ("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 somethin' I don't do

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

"Yo, Slim, your last albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was albums ago
What do you Oops
Know your before you come 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, 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 whole 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 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 your greatest
The game's mine again and ain't nothin' but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick my name for clickbait
In a state of bliss 'cause I said his 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 career to it

injection
Go to six feet 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
Lick a 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 out of ammo?

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

Your red sweater, your black
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 don't who's in the right
But you're losin' the fight you

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

I'm sick of your mumble rap
to get the cock up out it
Before we can talk about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of blonde hair and earrings
'cause you look 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 my daughter out it

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