Luyện nghe bài hát The Hitman

Call me the hitman, it's hard, ain't it?
What most to become in the game, we became it
So I painted a masterpiece of an industry
It's not a lip of grass, so it's graphic, it
The hitman, say it again, the
The hitman, uh, say it again, say, say it

people say I'm extreme, broadcast a beam live through a meme
Screaming as Jimmy Iovine, as as Don King
Boxed the ghetto, so be champ with the bling
Industry's the arena, the is the ring
You train audible Queens, to music to fiends?
Then Def Jam, supreme team, the thing
Except more now, it's digital cocaine
The goal to every individual brain
Like, Cadillacs for contracts in the
Now it's rap you sixty, for contract 360
The trick, switch the degrees with the sixes
Artists are with zero, you know who received the riches
Which is the why there's only a few moguls
Globally, the are left in a chokehold
Enough to make the go postal
Watching these old folks get fucked for they

If you are not performing fellatio for rotation
What's the ratio for radio at your station?
If your not paying to play, the record is
a whole new spin on radio head/Radiohead
They got a thousand plays a week and we the same units (uh)
Put they rep up, they couldn't stand next to it (woo)
wanna relate, they wanna connect to it
Here's a lyrical check, is enough for you to flex to it, huh?
Or do you need more
Should I be more Will that change your view?
Should I die my hair blonde? Should my eyes be (come on)
Just a of questions I mustered up for you (uh)
But eleven and half shoes, you can't fill those
I made head lines/headlines like pillows
And probably get banned from television and
Targeting music industry politics, it

The hit (*gunshot*), man, it's hard
Let's sex tapes, so we can become stars
photographs of titties and asses
Increase our buzz, impress the (uh)
I she was supposed to be so passive
Now you just ass in the air with an asterisk
Cell phone songs, you never be classic
You sold soul, they call that remastering
B, why does it have to be so
Chemical skin peel, makes the song more
the program man, stick to the clap-tics
Twelve to eighteen, you the demographics
These kids popcorn, they want slapstick
Probably the chorus tisket, tasket
But I'm not willing to risk it and it (come on)
This might take a couple of listens for you to it
The hit (*gunshot, drops*)