Luyện nghe bài hát KILLSHOT (MGK Diss)

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

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

Rihanna hit me on a text
Last I left hickeys on her neck
Wait, you dissed me? I'm perplexed
me in a line, compliment me on the next
Damn, I'm really you want me to have a heart attack
Was watchin' 8 Mile on my
Realized I to call 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 a damn gun and have a man-bun?
The giant's woke, open, undeniable
Supplyin' smoke, got the stoked
Say you got me in a scope, but you me
I say one call to Interscope and Swayze
reply got the crowd yelling, "Woo!"
So you die let's see who can out-petty who
your corny lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm still you
By 29, I had three albums had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I really do

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

"Yo, Slim, your last four albums
Go back to Recovery," oh shoot, was three 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
Younger me? No, you're the wack me, 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 you in your own city, lil' kiddy, go play
like I'm babysitting Lil Tay
Got the okay so you spent your whole day
Shootin' a video to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at own wake, I'm the billy goat
You ain't never a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor Swift and Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be putting your
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' in vain
brain, you Satanist (yeah)

My flops are your greatest hits
The mine again and ain't nothin' changed but the locks
So I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta wake up Day to this (the fuck?)
Bein' rich-shamed by some prick usin' my for clickbait
In a of bliss 'cause I said his goddamn name
Now I cock back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
your moment
This is it, as big as you're get, so enjoy it
Had to you a career to destroy it

injection
Go to sleep six feet deep, I'll give you a B for the
But if I was
You'd look up to me, and for the
You suck a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
a ballsack to get on my channel
Give your life to be as
This shit is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So what good is a fuckin' machine gun when out of ammo?

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

Your red sweater, your black
You better, I rap better
a death threat or a love letter?
Little toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I just don't you, prick
for dissing me
Now I had an excuse on the mic to "Not Alike"
But really, I don't who's in the right
But you're the fight you picked

Who else want it? Kells — 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 boss pops pills and him he's got skills
But, Kells, the day you put out a the day Diddy admits
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 it (let's talk about it)

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

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