Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

You at the mic, fuckin' 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
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 Mile on my
I forgot to call 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 gonna name after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The giant's woke, open, undeniable
smoke, got the fire stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to and you're Swayze
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 still you
By 29, I had three albums had blew
Now let's talk about I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth food
But you're a mole hill
Now make a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' 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 cereal or oatmeal?
What the in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, last four albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, was three albums ago
What do you Oops
Know facts 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 wack me, it's funny but so
I'd rather be 80-year-old me than 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, lil' kiddy, go
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent your day
Shootin' a just 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 that Iggy ho, you about to really
Kelly, they'll be putting name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My biggest flops are your hits
The game's mine again and ain't 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 prick usin' my name for
In a state of bliss I said his goddamn name
Now I cock back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
It's moment
This is it, as big as you're get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a to destroy it

Lethal
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 fuckin' be me for a
Lick a to get on my channel
Give your to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of this tatted-up rapper
How the fuck can him and I
He'll to fuck Kim in my flannel
I'll give him my
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' to live in my shadow
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 of Halsey

Your red sweater, your leather
You dress better, I rap
a death threat or a love letter?
Little white
Thinks 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 care in the right
But you're the fight you picked

Who else want it? — 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 pills and tells him he's got
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day Diddy
he put the hit out that got Pac killed, ah!
I'm sick of you wack
And still usin' that Auto-Tune
So let's about it (let's talk about it)

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

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