Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

You sound like a bitch,
the fuck up!
When your fans become your
You
beard's weird

You at the mic, fuckin' weird beard
We doin' once
You at the mic, your beard's 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
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm really you want me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
Realized I 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 a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The giant's woke, open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
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 you die let's see who can out-petty who
With your corny lines ("Slim, 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 somethin' I don't do

Go in daughter's mouth stealin' food
But you're a mole hill
Now make a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my marrow
Bitch, you ain't a bow and arrow
Say run up on me like a phone 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? or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three ago
do you know? Oops
Know your 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 be 80-year-old me than 20-year-old you

I'm hitting old age
Still can a whole page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play
Feel I'm babysitting 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 a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last sayin' Hailie in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My biggest are your greatest hits
The game's again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay this I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some usin' my name for clickbait
In a state of bliss 'cause I said his goddamn
Now I cock back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
your moment
This is it, as big as you're gonna get, so 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 be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
Give life to be as solidified
mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' 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 Kim in my flannel
I'll him my sandals
'Cause he knows, 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 around it like a sombrero, we can all see
You're fuckin'
'Cause Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your black
You better, I rap better
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 excuse on the mic to "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 coffins as soft as
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
But idiot's 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 usin' that Auto-Tune
So let's talk about it (let's about it)

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

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