Killshot

Lyrics

You sound like a bitch, bitch
 Shut the fuck up!
 When your fans become your haters
 You done?
 Fuckin' beard's weird
 Alright
 You yellin' at the mic, fuckin' weird beard
 We doin' this once (you yellin' at the mic, your beard's weird)
 Why you yell at the mic? (Illa)
 Rihanna just hit me on a 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 NordicTrack
 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!
 Hoe, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow
 Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and arrow
 Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
 Playin' dead, that's the only time you hold still (hold up)
 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, hoe
 Younger me? No, you're the wack 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 age
 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 hoe, 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' Hailie 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 I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
 Gotta wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
 Bein' rich-shamed 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-eleven
 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 as solidified
 This motherfuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
 So what good is a fuckin' 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
 Lick 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' wack
 And still usin' that motherfuckin' Auto-Tune
 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
 That 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
 
 You sound like a bitch, bitch
 Shut the fuck up!
 When your fans become your haters
 You done?
 Fuckin' beard's weird
 Alright
 You yellin' at the mic, fuckin' weird beard
 We doin' this once (you yellin' at the mic, your beard's weird)
 Why you yell at the mic? (Illa)
 Rihanna just hit me on a 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 NordicTrack
 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!
 Hoe, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow
 Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and arrow
 Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
 Playin' dead, that's the only time you hold still (hold up)
 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, hoe
 Younger me? No, you're the wack 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 age
 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 hoe, 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' Hailie 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 I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
 Gotta wake up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
 Bein' rich-shamed 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-eleven
 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 as solidified
 This motherfuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
 So what good is a fuckin' 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
 Lick 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' wack
 And still usin' that motherfuckin' Auto-Tune
 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
 That 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
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
04:13
Tempo
106 BPM

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