Luyện nghe bài hát The Hitman

Call me the hitman, it's kinda hard, it?
most feared 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

Some people say I'm extreme, broadcast a live through a meme
Screaming as Jimmy Iovine, as as Don King
Boxed into the ghetto, so be champ with the
the arena, the internet is the ring
You train audible Queens, to sling music to
Def Jam, supreme team, the same thing
Except more critical now, digital cocaine
The goal to control every individual
Like, Cadillacs for in the sixties
Now it's rap 'til you sixty, for 360
The trick, switch the degrees with the three
Artists are left zero, you know who received the riches
Which is the why there's only a few moguls
Globally, the pioneers are in a chokehold
to make the individual go postal
Watching these old folks get fucked for vocals

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

The hit (*gunshot*), man, it's kinda
Let's release sex tapes, so we can stars
Nude photographs of and asses
Increase our buzz, impress the (uh)
I thought she was to be so passive
Now you just another ass in the air with an
phone songs, you will never be classic
You sold your soul, they that remastering
B, why does it have to be so
skin peel, makes the song more plastic
Follow the program man, stick to the
Twelve to eighteen, you know the
These kids want popcorn, they want
Probably the chorus tisket, tasket
But I'm not willing to risk it and it (come on)
might take a couple of listens for you to grasp it
The hit (*gunshot, drops*)