Luyện nghe bài hát Killshot

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

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

just hit me on a text
Last night I hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you me to have a heart attack
Was 8 Mile on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to 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 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 call to Interscope and you're
Your reply got the yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die let's see who can 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 had blew
Now let's about somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth food
But you're a mole hill
Now I'ma a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome 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, that's the only you hold 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, last 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, Yeah, I had enough money in '02
To it in front of you, ho
Younger me? No, you're the me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be me than 20-year-old you

'Til I'm old age
Still can a whole page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent whole day
Shootin' a just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy
You ain't never made a next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting your
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

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

injection
Go to sleep six feet deep, give you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd look up to me, and for the
You would 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 Rambo he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of

Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the can him and I battle?
He'll have to Kim in my flannel
I'll give him my
'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 dance around it a sombrero, we can all see
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young Gerald's balls-deep inside of

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

Who else it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — 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 pills and tells him he's got
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 of you bein' wack
And usin' that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
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 talk it (talk about it)
I'm sick of blonde hair and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the mirror and
you're Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't 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