Luyện nghe bài hát KILLSHOT (MGK Diss)

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

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

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last night I hickeys on her neck
Wait, you just me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to a heart attack
Was 8 Mile on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to you back
Here's that for your 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 woke, eyes open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to Interscope and you're
Your got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So before you die let's see who can who
With your corny lines ("Slim, old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm still you
By 29, I had three that had blew
Now let's talk about I don't really do

Go in someone's daughter's stealin' food
But you're a mole hill
Now I'ma a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my bone
Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and
Say run up on me like 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, last four albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, was three albums ago
What do you Oops
Know your facts you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
Younger me? No, you're the wack me, it's funny but so
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 10-year-old's
Got more fans you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the Diddy okay so you spent your 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 and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, be putting your name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the motherfucker sayin' Hailie in vain
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are your greatest
The game's mine again and ain't changed but the locks
So before I slay this bitch I, mwah, 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 bliss I said his goddamn name
Now I cock back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
your moment
This is it, as big as gonna get, so enjoy it
Had to give you a to destroy it

Lethal
Go to sleep six feet deep, 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 when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun when out of ammo?

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

Your red sweater, black leather
You better, I rap better
That a death threat or a love
Little toothpick
Thinks it's 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 care who's in the right
But you're losin' the fight you

Who else want it? Kells — fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' nails in coffins as soft as Cottonelle
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 hit's the day admits
he put the hit out that got Pac killed, ah!
I'm of you bein' wack
And still that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So talk about it (let's talk about it)

I'm of your mumble rap mouth
Need to get the up out it
Before we can even about it (talk about it)
I'm sick of blonde hair and earrings
Just 'cause you look in the and think
you're Marshall Mathers (Marshall Mathers)
Don't mean you are, and not about it
So just leave my dick in your mouth and my daughter out it

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