Luyện nghe bài hát KILLSHOT (MGK Diss)

You like a bitch, bitch
Shut the up!
When your become your haters
You
Fuckin' weird

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

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
Insult me in a line, compliment me on the
Damn, I'm really sorry you want me to have a attack
Was watchin' 8 on my NordicTrack
Realized I forgot to you back
Here's that autograph for your daughter, I wrote it on a cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name yourself after a damn gun and a man-bun?
The woke, eyes open, undeniable
smoke, got the fire stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to and you're Swayze
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 albums that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I really do

Go in someone's daughter's stealin' food
But a fuckin' mole hill
Now I'ma make a out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, like you put the chrome barrel to my bone marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you ain't a bow and
Say you'll run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' (brrt)
dead, that's the only time you hold still (hold up)
Are you eating or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm takin' a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last albums sucked
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, that was albums ago
do you know? Oops
Know facts before you come at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, bitch? Yeah, I had enough in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
me? No, you're the wack me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be 80-year-old me than you

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a whole with a 10-year-old's rage
Got more fans than you in your own city, kiddy, go play
Feel like I'm Lil Tay
Got the okay so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy
You ain't never made a next to no Biggie, no Jay
to Taylor Swift and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My biggest flops are your greatest
The game's again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So before I this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for
In a state of 'cause I said his goddamn name
Now I cock back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
It's your
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, I'll you a B for the effort
But if I was
You'd look up to me, and for the
You suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
your life to be as solidified
This shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of

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

red sweater, your black leather
You better, I rap better
That a death threat or a love
Little toothpick
it's over a pic, I just don't like you, prick
Thanks for me
Now I had an on the mic to write "Not Alike"
But really, I don't who's in the right
But you're losin' the you picked

Who else want it? — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
Fuckin' in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm with the Doc
But this idiot's pops pills and tells him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a hit's the day Diddy
That he put the hit out got Pac killed, ah!
I'm sick of you wack
And usin' that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So let's talk about it (let's talk it)

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

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