Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
night I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
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 forgot to 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 gonna name after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The giant's woke, eyes open,
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 got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die let's see who can who
With corny lines ("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 talk about somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's mouth stealin' food
But you're a fuckin' mole
Now I'ma make a out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, like you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and
Say you'll run up on me a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
dead, that's the only time you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating cereal or
the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a 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 know?
Know your facts before you 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 wack me, it's funny but so
I'd rather be 80-year-old me than you

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a whole page with a 10-year-old's
Got more fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent your day
Shootin' a video to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy
You ain't made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, be putting your name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My flops are your greatest hits
The game's mine again and ain't changed but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give a kiss
wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some usin' 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
This is it, as big as you're get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a career to it

Lethal
Go to sleep six feet deep, I'll give you a B for the
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 ballsack to get on my
Give your life to be as
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 of this tatted-up mumble rapper
How the can him and I battle?
He'll have to fuck Kim in my
I'll him my sandals
'Cause he knows, long as I'm he's gon' have 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 fuckin'
'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep of Halsey

Your red sweater, your leather
You better, I rap better
a death threat or a love letter?
Little white
it's over a pic, I just don't like you, prick
Thanks for 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' in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
But this boss pops pills and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day admits
That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah!
I'm sick of you wack
And usin' that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So let's talk about it (let's about it)

I'm sick of your mumble rap
to get the cock up out it
Before we can even talk it (talk about it)
I'm of your blonde hair and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the 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