Luyện nghe bài hát KILLSHOT (MGK Diss)

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

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

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

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name yourself a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The giant's woke, eyes open,
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to and you're Swayze
Your got the crowd 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 outselling 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 a fuckin' mole hill
Now I'ma a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow
Bitch, you ain't a bow and arrow
Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the time you hold still (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading
...Dictionary...

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

I'm hitting old age
Still can fill a whole with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in own city, lil' kiddy, go play
Feel I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy so you spent your 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 blow
Kelly, be putting your name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in
Alien brain, you (yeah)

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

Lethal
Go to sleep six 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 fuckin' be me for a
Lick a to get on my channel
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 when it's out of

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

Your red sweater, your leather
You dress better, I rap
That a death 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 in the right
But you're the fight 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 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 sick of you wack
And still usin' that Auto-Tune
So let's talk about it (let's talk it)

I'm sick of mumble rap mouth
to get the cock up out it
Before we can even talk about it (talk it)
I'm sick of your hair and earrings
'cause you look 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 mouth and keep my daughter out it

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