Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

You at the mic, fuckin' weird beard
We this once
You at the mic, your beard's weird
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
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a heart
Was 8 Mile 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 yourself after a damn gun and have a
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
smoke, got the fire stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one to Interscope and you're Swayze
Your reply got the 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 albums that had
Now let's talk somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin'
But you're a fuckin' hill
Now I'ma a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you a bow and arrow
Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' (brrt)
Playin' dead, the only time you hold still (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, was three albums ago
do you know? Oops
Know your facts before you come at me, goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, Yeah, I had enough money in '02
To burn it in 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

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a whole page a 10-year-old's rage
Got more than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the okay so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat
You never made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be your name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are greatest hits
The mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
Bein' by some prick 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 gonna get, so it
Had to give you a career to it

Lethal
Go to sleep six feet deep, I'll you a B for the effort
But if I was
look up to me, and for the record
You would a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
a ballsack to get on my channel
Give your to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is 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
He'll have to fuck Kim in my
I'll him my sandals
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' have to 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
You're salty
'Cause Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

red sweater, your black leather
You better, I rap better
That a threat or a love letter?
white toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you,
for dissing me
Now I had an on the mic to write "Not Alike"
But really, I care who's in the right
But you're the fight you picked

Who else it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these coffins as soft as
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
But idiot's 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 still that mothafuckin' 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 even talk about it (talk it)
I'm sick of blonde hair and earrings
Just 'cause you in the mirror and think
That Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't you are, and you're not about it
So just leave my dick in your mouth and my daughter out it

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