Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last night I hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just me? I'm perplexed
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a attack
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to you back
Here's that for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter 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, open, undeniable
smoke, got the fire 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 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 I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin'
But a fuckin' 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 you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' (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 four albums
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was albums ago
What do you know?
Know facts before you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough in '02
To burn it in 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

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

My biggest flops are greatest hits
The game's mine again and nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a
wake up Labor Day to this (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 gonna get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a career to it

Lethal
Go to sleep six deep, I'll give you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd up to me, and for the record
You would suck a to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
Give your life to be as
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo he's out of bullets
So what good is a machine gun when it's out of ammo?

Had of this tatted-up mumble rapper
How the can him and I battle?
He'll to fuck Kim in my flannel
I'll him my sandals
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to 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
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young Gerald's inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, black leather
You better, I rap better
That a death or a love letter?
white toothpick
Thinks over 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 who's in the right
But you're the fight you picked

Who else want it? Kells — fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
But this idiot's pops pills 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 about it (let's talk about it)

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

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