Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you just dissed me? I'm
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 forgot to you back
Here's that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name yourself after a damn gun and have a
The giant's woke, eyes open,
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
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 that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I really do

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

"Yo, Slim, your last four albums
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was albums ago
What do you know?
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, it's but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me than you

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent whole day
a video just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy
You ain't never made a list to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, be putting your name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My flops are your greatest hits
The game's mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
Bein' by some prick usin' my name for clickbait
In a state of bliss I said his goddamn name
Now I gotta back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
It's moment
This is it, as big as gonna 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 dick to be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
Give your to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun it's out of ammo?

Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the fuck can him and I
He'll have to fuck Kim in my
I'll him my sandals
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to live in my
Exhausting, letting off on my
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 dress better, I rap
That a death threat or a love
Little white
Thinks it's over a pic, I just like you, prick
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 the fight you picked

Who else want it? Kells — fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc
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 Diddy
That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah!
I'm of you bein' wack
And still usin' that Auto-Tune
So talk about it (let's talk about it)

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

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