Luyện nghe bài hát KILLSHOT (MGK Diss)

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

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

just hit me on a text
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, me on the next
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
I forgot to call you back
Here's autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna yourself after a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the fire
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to and you're Swayze
Your reply got the yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die let's see who can who
With your corny ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm outselling you
By 29, I had three albums that had
Now talk about somethin' I don't really do

Go in daughter's mouth stealin' food
But you're a fuckin' mole
Now I'ma make a out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome to my bone marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and
Say run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
dead, that's the only time you hold still (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm 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 at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, Yeah, I had enough money in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
Younger me? No, the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd be 80-year-old 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 fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent whole day
a video just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the goat
You ain't never made a list to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really
Kelly, they'll be putting your
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are your hits
The game's mine again and ain't nothin' but the locks
So before I this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Labor Day to (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by prick usin' my name 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 get, so enjoy it
Had to you a career to destroy it

Lethal
Go to six feet deep, I'll give you a B for the effort
But if I was
look up to me, and for the record
You would suck a dick to be me for a second
Lick a ballsack to get on my
Give life to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' shit is like Rambo when he's out of
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 Kim in my flannel
I'll give him my
'Cause he knows, long as I'm 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
fuckin' salty
'Cause Young Gerald's inside of Halsey

red sweater, your black leather
You better, I rap better
That a threat or a love letter?
Little toothpick
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 in the right
But you're losin' the you picked

Who want it? Kells — 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 pills and tells him he's got
But, Kells, the day you put out a the day Diddy admits
That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah!
I'm sick of you wack
And still usin' mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So talk 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 about it (talk about it)
I'm of your blonde hair and earrings
Just you look in the mirror and think
That you're Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
mean you are, and you're not about it
So leave my dick in your mouth and keep my daughter out it

You fuckin'... oh
And I'm just playin',
You I love you