Luyện nghe bài hát KILLSHOT (MGK Diss)

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last night I left hickeys on her
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a attack
Was 8 Mile on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to call you
that autograph 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 gun and have a man-bun?
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
smoke, got the fire stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to Interscope and Swayze
reply got the crowd 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 still you
By 29, I had three albums had blew
Now talk about somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin'
But a fuckin' mole hill
Now I'ma make a out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, like you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you a bow and arrow
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 cereal or
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four sucked
Go to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago
What do you know?
Know your facts you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had money in '02
To it in front 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 fill a whole page with a rage
Got more fans you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the okay so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video just to fuckin' dig own grave
Got you at own wake, I'm the billy goat
You never made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, be putting your name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last sayin' Hailie in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

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

injection
Go to sleep six deep, I'll give you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd up to me, and for the record
You would suck a to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a ballsack to get on my
Give life to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like when he's out of bullets
So good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?

Had enough of this tatted-up rapper
How the can him and I battle?
He'll have to Kim in my flannel
I'll him my sandals
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady gon' have to live in my shadow
Exhausting, letting off on my
a gun barrel, bitch, get off me!
You dance around it a sombrero, we can all see
You're fuckin'
'Cause Young Gerald's inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your black
You dress better, I rap
That a threat or a love letter?
Little white
Thinks over a pic, I just don't like you, prick
for dissing me
Now I had an on the mic to write "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 these coffins as as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc
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 admits
That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah!
I'm of you bein' wack
And still usin' mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So let's about it (let's talk about it)

I'm of your mumble rap mouth
to get the cock up out it
Before we can even talk it (talk about it)
I'm sick of your blonde hair and
Just 'cause you in the mirror and think
That 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 just playin',
You I love you