Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

You like a bitch, bitch
Shut the up!
When your become your haters
You
Fuckin' weird

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

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm really you want me to have a heart attack
Was 8 Mile on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to you back
that autograph for your 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 giant's woke, eyes open,
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one to Interscope and you're Swayze
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So you die let's see who can out-petty who
With your 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 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 barrel to my marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and
Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' (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 a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, was three albums ago
do you know? Oops
Know your facts before you at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had money in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
Younger me? No, you're the wack me, funny but so true
I'd rather be me than 20-year-old you

I'm hitting old age
Still can a whole page with 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 your whole day
Shootin' a video to fuckin' 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 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
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are greatest hits
The game's mine again and nothin' changed but the locks
So before I slay this I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my for clickbait
In a of bliss 'cause 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 you're gonna get, so it
Had to you a career to destroy it

injection
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 suck a dick 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 when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun when out of ammo?

Had of this tatted-up mumble rapper
How the can him and I battle?
He'll have to Kim in my flannel
give 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 balls-deep inside of

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

Who else want it? — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc
But this idiot's pops pills and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day Diddy
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 talk about it (let's talk it)

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

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