Killshot

歌詞

You sound like a bitch, bitch Shut the fuck up When your fans become your haters You done? Fuck, your beard's weird Alright You yellin' at the mic, you weird beard We doin' this once Your beard's weird, why you yellin' at the mic? Rihanna just hit me on the text Last night I left hickeys on her neck Wait, you just dissed me, I'm perplexed Insult me in a line, compliment me on the next, damn I'm really sorry you want me to have a heart attack Was watchin' 8 Mile on my Nordic Track Realized I forgot to call you back Here's that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter cap Stan, Stan, son, listen, man, dad isn't mad But how you gonna name yourself after a damn gun and have a man bun? The giant's woke, eyes open, undeniable Supplyin' smoke, got the fire stoked Say you got me in a scope, but you grazed me I say one call to Interscope and you're Swayze Your reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo" So before you die let's see who can out-petty who With your corny lines (Slim you're old) Ow, Kelly, ooh, but I'm 45 and I'm still outselling you By 29 I had three albums that had blew Now let's talk about somethin' I don't really do Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin' food But you're a fuckin' mole hill, now I'ma make a mountain out of you, woo! Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow Gun, I bet you ain't a bow and arrow Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead Playin' dead, that's the only time you hold still Are you eating cereal, or oatmeal? What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios? 'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material Dictionary Yo Slim, your last four albums sucked Go back to Recovery, oh shoot, that was three albums ago What do you know? Oops, know your facts before you come at me, lil' goof Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough money in '02 To burn it in front of you, ho Younger me? No, you're the whack me It's funny, but so true I'd rather be 80 year old me than 20 year old you 'Til I'm hitting old-aged still can fill a whole page with a 10 year old's rage Got more fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy Go play, feel like I'm babysitting Lil Tay Got the Diddy okay so you spent your whole day Shootin' a video just to fuckin' dig your own grave Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy goat You ain't never made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay Next to Taylor Swift, and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow Kelly, they'll be putting your name Next to Ja, next to Benzino, die, motherfucker Like the last motherfucker sayin' Hailey in vain Alien brain, you Satanist (yeah) My biggest flops are your greatest hits The game's mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks So before I slay this bitch, mwah, give Jade a kiss Gotta wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?) Bein' rich, aimed by some prick usin' my name for clickbait In a state of bliss 'cause I said his goddamn name Now I gotta cock back, aim, yeah, bitch, pop champagne to this It's your moment, this is it As big as you're gonna get, so enjoy it Had to give you a career to destroy it Lethal injection, go to sleep six feet deep I'll give you a B for the effort, but if I was three Foot 11, you'd look up to me, and for the record You would suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a second Lick a ballsack to get on my channel Give your life to be this solidified This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets So what fuckin' good is a machine gun when it's out of ammo? Had enough of this tatted-up mumble rapper How the fuck can him and I battle? He'll have to fuck Kim in my flannel I'll give him my sandals 'Cause he knows long as I'm Shady, he's gon' have to live in my shadow Exhausting, letting off on my offspring Like a gun barrel, bitch, get off me You dance around it like a sombrero, we can all see You're fuckin' salty 'cause young Gerald's balls-deep inside of Halsey Your red sweater, your black leather You dress better, I rap better That a death threat or a love letter? Little white toothpick Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't like you, prick Thanks for dissing me Now I had an excuse on the mic to write, not alike But really, I don't care who's in the right But you're losin' the fight you picked Who else want it, Kells? Attempt fails, budden, L's Fuckin' nails in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc still But this idiot's boss pops pills and tells him he's got skills But Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day Diddy admits That he put the hit out that got Pac killed, ah I'm sick of you bein' whack And still usin' that mothafuckin' AutoTune, so let's talk about it (let's talk about it) I'm sick of your mumble rap mouth Need to get the cock up out it before we can even talk about it (talk about it) I'm sick of your blonde hair and earrings Just 'cause you look in the mirror and think you're Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers) Don't mean you are, and you're not about it So just leave my dick in your mouth, and keep my daughter out it You fuckin', oh And I'm just playin', Diddy, you know I love you