Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

You yellin' at the mic, fuckin' weird
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 dissed me? I'm
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm really sorry you me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to call you
Here's that autograph for daughter, I wrote it on a Starter cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna yourself after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the fire
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to Interscope and you're
Your reply got the yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die let's see who can who
With your corny lines ("Slim, old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm outselling you
By 29, I had albums that had blew
Now talk about somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin'
But you're a mole hill
Now make a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my bone
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 time you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating cereal or
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or
'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, that was three 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
me? No, you're the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd be 80-year-old me than 20-year-old you

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a whole page with a rage
Got more fans you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
like 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 own wake, I'm the billy goat
You never made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting name
Next to Ja, 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 nothin' 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 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

injection
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 a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
Give life to be as solidified
mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a machine gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of tatted-up mumble rapper
How the fuck can him and I
He'll have to 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 around it like a sombrero, we can all see
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young Gerald's inside of Halsey

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

Who else want it? Kells — attempt fails! — L's!
Fuckin' in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I not fail, I'm with the Doc still
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 of you bein' wack
And still usin' that mothafuckin'
So talk about it (let's talk about it)

I'm sick of your rap mouth
to get the cock up out it
Before we can even talk 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 not about it
So leave my dick in your mouth and keep my daughter out it

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