Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

You sound a bitch, bitch
the fuck up!
When your fans become your
You
Fuckin' weird

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

just hit me on a text
Last I left 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 want me to a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
Realized I to call you back
Here's autograph for your daughter, I wrote 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
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to Interscope and Swayze
Your got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die let's see who can who
With your lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm still you
By 29, I had three that had blew
Now let's about somethin' I don't really do

Go in daughter's mouth stealin' food
But you're a fuckin' mole
Now I'ma a mountain 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 you'll run up on me like a phone bill, 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?
'Cause I'm a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last albums sucked
Go to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago
What do you Oops
your facts before you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, Yeah, I had enough money in '02
To it in front of you, ho
Younger me? No, you're the me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me 20-year-old you

I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a whole page with a rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the okay so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video just to dig your own grave
Got you at own wake, I'm the billy goat
You ain't never made a list 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 motherfucker sayin' Hailie in
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are your greatest
The game's mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick my name for clickbait
In a of bliss 'cause I said his goddamn name
Now I gotta back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
your moment
This is it, as big as you're gonna get, so it
Had to you a career to destroy it

injection
Go to sleep six feet deep, I'll you a B for the effort
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
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of

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

Your red sweater, your leather
You dress better, I rap
That a death threat or a letter?
white toothpick
Thinks it's a pic, I just don't like you, prick
for dissing me
Now I had an excuse on the mic to "Not Alike"
But really, I don't care who's in the
But you're losin' the you picked

Who else it? Kells — attempt 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 and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a the day Diddy admits
That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah!
I'm sick of you wack
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 talk about it (talk about it)
I'm of your blonde hair and earrings
'cause you look in the mirror and think
That you're Marshall (Marshall Mathers)
Don't mean you are, and you're not it
So just leave my dick in your mouth and my daughter out it

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