Luyện nghe bài hát KILLSHOT (MGK Diss)

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

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
night I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just dissed me? I'm
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you 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 after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The giant's woke, open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the fire
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 see who can out-petty 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 that had
Now let's about somethin' I don't really do

Go in someone's mouth stealin' food
But you're a fuckin' mole
Now make a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' you put the chrome barrel to my bone 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 only time you still (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? or Cheerios?
I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was albums ago
do you know? Oops
Know your facts before you come at me, lil'
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had money in '02
To burn it in 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

I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a whole page with a 10-year-old's
Got more than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the okay so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video just to dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the 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, they'll be your name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My biggest flops are greatest hits
The game's mine and ain't nothin' 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 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 you're gonna get, so it
Had to give you a career to it

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

Had of this tatted-up mumble rapper
How the fuck can him and I
He'll have to fuck Kim in my
give him my sandals
'Cause he knows, as I'm Shady he's 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
You're fuckin'
'Cause Young balls-deep inside of Halsey

Your red sweater, your leather
You better, I rap better
That a death or a love letter?
Little white
it's over a pic, I just don't 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 want it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc
But this idiot's boss pills and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day Diddy
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 talk about it (let's about it)

I'm sick of your mumble rap
to get the cock up out it
Before we can even talk about it (talk it)
I'm sick of your hair and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the mirror and
you're Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't mean you are, and you're not 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