Luyện nghe bài hát KILLSHOT (MGK Diss)

You sound a bitch, bitch
the fuck up!
When your fans become haters
You
Fuckin' beard's

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

Rihanna just hit me on a
Last night I left on her neck
Wait, you just dissed me? I'm
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 forgot to you back
Here's that for your daughter, I wrote it on a Starter cap

Stan, Stan, son
Listen, man, Dad mad
But how you gonna name yourself after a gun and have a man-bun?
The giant's woke, eyes open,
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 reply got the yelling, "Woo!"
So you die let's see who can out-petty who
With your lines ("Slim, you're old")—ow, Kelly, ooh
But I'm 45 and I'm outselling 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 a mountain out of you, woo!
Ho, chill, actin' like you put the chrome barrel to my marrow
Gunner? Bitch, you a bow and arrow
Say run up on me like a phone bill, sprayin' lead (brrt)
Playin' dead, that's the time you hold still (hold up)
Are you cereal or oatmeal?
What the fuck's in the bowl, milk? or Cheerios?
'Cause I'm a shit in 'em, Kelly, I need reading material
...Dictionary...

"Yo, Slim, your last four sucked
Go to Recovery," oh shoot, that was three albums ago
do you know? Oops
Know your facts before you at me, lil' goof
Luxury, oh, you broke, Yeah, I had enough money in '02
To burn it in of you, ho
Younger me? No, you're the me, it's funny but so true
I'd rather be me than 20-year-old you

'Til I'm old age
Still can fill a page 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 Diddy okay so you spent whole day
Shootin' a just to fuckin' dig your own grave
Got you at your own wake, I'm the billy
You never made a list next to no Biggie, no Jay
Next to Taylor and that Iggy ho, you about to really blow
Kelly, they'll be your name
to Ja, next to Benzino—die, motherfucker!
Like the last motherfucker sayin' Hailie in
Alien brain, you (yeah)

My biggest flops are greatest hits
The game's mine again and nothin' changed but the locks
So I slay this bitch I, mwah, give Jade a kiss
Gotta up Labor Day to this (the fuck?)
rich-shamed by some prick usin' my name for clickbait
In a state of bliss 'cause I his goddamn name
Now I cock back, aim
Yeah, bitch, pop to this! (pop)
your moment
This is it, as big as you're gonna get, so 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 up to me, and for the record
You would a dick to fuckin' be me for a second
Lick a to get on my channel
your life to be as solidified
This mothafuckin' is like Rambo when he's out of bullets
So good is a fuckin' machine gun when it's out of ammo?

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

red sweater, your black leather
You dress better, I rap
That a threat or a love letter?
white toothpick
Thinks it's over a pic, I don't like you, prick
Thanks for me
Now I had an excuse on the mic to "Not Alike"
But really, I don't care who's in the
But losin' the fight you picked

Who else want it? — attempt fails! Budden — L's!
nails in these coffins as soft as Cottonelle
Killshot, I will not fail, I'm the Doc still
But idiot's boss pops pills and tells 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 of you bein' wack
And usin' that mothafuckin' Auto-Tune
So talk about it (let's talk about it)

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

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