Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

You yellin' at the mic, fuckin' beard
We doin' this
You yellin' at the mic, beard's 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
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm sorry you want me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 Mile on my
Realized I forgot to call you
Here's that autograph for your daughter, I it on a Starter cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name yourself after a damn gun and a man-bun?
The giant's woke, eyes open,
Supplyin' smoke, got the fire
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to Interscope and Swayze
Your got the crowd 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 albums that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin'
But you're a fuckin' 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, lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the time you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four albums
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three ago
What do you Oops
Know your facts before you come at me, goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
Younger me? No, you're the wack me, it's but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me 20-year-old you

'Til I'm old age
Still can a whole page with a 10-year-old's rage
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 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
to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting your
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest are your greatest hits
The game's mine again and ain't changed but the locks
So before I slay bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for
In a state of bliss 'cause I said his goddamn
Now I cock back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
It's your
This is it, as big as gonna get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a career to it

injection
Go to sleep six feet deep, give you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd up to me, and for the record
You would suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a
a ballsack to get on my channel
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 when 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 gon' 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 Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey

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

Who else want it? — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in 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 hit's the day Diddy
he put the hit out that got Pac killed, ah!
I'm of you bein' wack
And still usin' that mothafuckin'
So let's talk about it (let's talk 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 blonde hair and earrings
Just 'cause you in the mirror and think
That Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't mean you are, and you're not 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