Luyện nghe bài hát The Hitman

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

Some 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 internet is the
You train Queens, to sling music to fiends?
Then Def Jam, supreme team, the same
more critical now, it's digital cocaine
The goal to control every brain
Like, Cadillacs for in the sixties
Now it's rap 'til you sixty, for 360
The trick, switch the degrees with the sixes
Artists are with zero, you know who received the riches
Which is the reason why only a few moguls
Globally, the pioneers are in a chokehold
Enough to the individual go postal
Watching these old folks get fucked for they

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

The hit (*gunshot*), man, it's kinda
release sex tapes, so we can become stars
Nude photographs of and asses
Increase our buzz, the masses (uh)
I thought she was to be so passive
Now you just ass in the air with an asterisk
Cell phone songs, you will be classic
You sold your soul, they call that
B, why it have to be so drastic?
Chemical skin peel, makes the song plastic
the program man, stick to the clap-tics
Twelve to eighteen, you the demographics
These kids want popcorn, they slapstick
Probably the goes tisket, tasket
But I'm not willing to risk it and it (come on)
This take a couple of listens for you to grasp it
The hit (*gunshot, drops*)