Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

You yellin' at the mic, weird beard
We this 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 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 heart
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 giant's woke, 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
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So you die let's see who can out-petty who
your corny lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm still you
By 29, I had albums that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I really do

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

"Yo, Slim, your last four albums
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, was three albums ago
What do you know?
Know your facts before you 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, the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be me than 20-year-old you

'Til I'm old age
can fill 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 to fuckin' dig your own grave
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 Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be your name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are your hits
The game's mine and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay bitch I, mwah, give 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 goddamn
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 you a career to destroy it

Lethal
Go to sleep six feet deep, 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
a ballsack to get on my channel
Give your life to be as
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo he's out of bullets
So good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of tatted-up mumble rapper
How the can him and I battle?
He'll have to Kim in my flannel
I'll give him my
'Cause he knows, as I'm Shady he's 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
You're fuckin'
'Cause Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your leather
You better, I rap better
That a death threat or a love
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 don't who's in the right
But you're losin' the fight you

Who else it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm the Doc still
But this idiot's boss pops pills and him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day 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 talk about it (let's about it)

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

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