Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

just hit me on a text
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
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
I forgot to call 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
Supplyin' smoke, got the fire
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to and you're Swayze
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die see who can out-petty who
your corny lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm outselling you
By 29, I had three albums that had
Now let's talk somethin' I don't really do

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

"Yo, Slim, your four albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was albums ago
What do you Oops
Know your before you come 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, the wack me, it's funny but so true
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 fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video just to dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy
You ain't never a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest are your greatest hits
The game's mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, give a kiss
Gotta wake up Day to this (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)
It's your
is it, as big as you're gonna 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 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' is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the fuck can him and I
have 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 around it a sombrero, we can all see
You're fuckin'
'Cause Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your black
You better, I rap better
a death threat or a love letter?
Little toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you,
Thanks for me
Now I had an excuse on the mic to "Not Alike"
But really, I don't care in the right
But losin' the fight you picked

Who else want it? Kells — attempt fails! — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these coffins as as Cottonelle
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
But this idiot's boss pops pills and tells him got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day admits
he put the hit out that 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 about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your blonde and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the mirror and
That you're Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
mean 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 playin', Diddy
You know I you