Luyện nghe bài hát The Hitman

Call me the hitman, it's kinda hard, it?
What 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 graphic, frame it
The hitman, say it again, the
The hitman, uh, say it again, say, say it

Some people say I'm extreme, broadcast a beam live through a
Screaming as Jimmy Iovine, as as Don King
Boxed the ghetto, so be champ with the bling
the arena, the internet is the ring
You train audible Queens, to sling music to
Then Def Jam, supreme team, the thing
Except more critical now, it's 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 with the three sixes
Artists are left zero, you know who received the riches
Which is the reason why there's only a few
Globally, the are left in a chokehold
Enough to make the go postal
Watching these old folks get for they vocals

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

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