Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

You sound a bitch, bitch
Shut the up!
When your fans become your
You
Fuckin' beard's

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

just hit me on a text
Last night I hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just dissed me? I'm
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
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 that autograph for your daughter, I it on a Starter cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you name yourself after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
smoke, got the fire 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 before you die let's see who can who
With corny 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 somethin' I don't do

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

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

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a whole page with a 10-year-old's
Got more than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy so you spent your whole day
a video just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat
You ain't made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really
Kelly, they'll be putting name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest are your greatest hits
The game's mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the
So before I this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick my name for clickbait
In a state of bliss I said his goddamn name
Now I cock 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 sleep six 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 be me for a second
Lick a ballsack to get on my
Give your to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun when out of ammo?

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

Your red sweater, black leather
You better, I rap better
a death threat or a love letter?
Little toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you,
for dissing 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 you picked

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

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

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