Luyện nghe bài hát KILLSHOT (MGK Diss)

You sound like a bitch,
Shut the up!
When your fans your haters
You
Fuckin' beard's

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just me? I'm perplexed
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm sorry you want me to have a heart attack
Was 8 Mile on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to 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 name yourself after a 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 Swayze
Your got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So you die let's see who can out-petty who
With your 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 talk about somethin' I really do

Go in someone's daughter's mouth food
But you're a mole hill
Now make a mountain 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 a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the only you hold still (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
the fuck's in the bowl, milk? Wheaties or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last albums sucked
Go to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago
What do you Oops
Know facts before you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough in '02
To it in front of you, ho
Younger me? No, you're the wack me, funny but so true
I'd be 80-year-old me than 20-year-old you

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a page with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent your day
Shootin' a video just to fuckin' dig your own
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 that Iggy ho, you about to really
Kelly, they'll be putting name
Next to Ja, to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker Hailie in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

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

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

Had enough of this mumble rapper
How the can him and I battle?
have to fuck Kim in my flannel
I'll give him my
'Cause he knows, long as I'm Shady he's gon' 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

Your red sweater, your leather
You dress better, I rap
a death threat or a love letter?
Little toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just like you, prick
for dissing 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 losin' the fight you

Who want it? Kells — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in these coffins as soft as
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm the Doc still
But this idiot's boss pills and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a the day Diddy admits
he put the hit out that got Pac killed, ah!
I'm sick of you bein'
And still usin' mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So let's talk about it (let's 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 sick of your blonde hair and
Just 'cause you in the mirror and think
That you're Marshall (Marshall Mathers)
mean you are, and you're not about it
So just leave my dick in your mouth and my daughter out it

You fuckin'... oh
And I'm playin', Diddy
You know I you