Luyện nghe bài hát Holiday

L o x
It stop
It goin, and goin, and goin, and goin

[styles
You it from the p, you oughta know it's the truth
I get you and raped and thrown off a roof
You could nod head to this like it's only a rap
'cause when bullets hit your ass I'm like it's only a gat
I need a funeral to good, I'm hopin it's yours
you delicious, heard he got shot in the cross
Holiday styles, bitch I broke most of the
Fuck with the poor, so to the boots, stick to the truth
Do anything it just to give it a slue
And a tooth, but both of 'em chipped, toaster is gripped
You heard the trouble, I start most of the shit
When I ain't no controllin the wrist
And leave the room when the hear the p blowin his whis
I'm an ignorant and nigga
I sell crack, bust guns, pop shit, and say I'm better than
You think not, I'll look at your man and a nigga
If you a rapper's better why don't you give me his name
So I can run up on him, him up and give you his frame
When it comes to the streets, I'm the to call
Five eight and three quarters, but I'm bigger y'all
If I left the gun home, i'ma give you the
I'm the in the flesh, I can't give you the lord
It don't make no sense for you to pray for your
I got my niggas in the crib, you pray for your wife

[chorus: and styles]
uh huh, holiday
[styles:] I gotta it to heaven for goin through hell
[j:]
[s:] and I care if I sell, y'all know what I sell
holiday
[s:] I use my left hand when I'm loadin the
[j:]
[s:] 'cause I know it right, that's why I'm blowin a l

paniro]
Yo, I do it all for my niggas, rob wit a bomb
Get shot, die in his arm, and give him my
It's a million bail, i'ma get it in cash
I sell crack like it's '88, I live in the
You know the p carry the gun, in the mask
Tell niggas me the money and gimme the stash
I like malibu and pineapple, of hash
Hundred's of dro, wear my clothes a in a row
on the floor, catch me right next to the dog
I'm holiday styles, and what the weaponry for
And I probably won't blow for the fact that I'm
But I'm good with ten in the back of the car
that or get life and lift the rack in the yard
Gettin jewels from the old timers, the cards
But ain't part of the plans
I keep weight on the scale 'cause I feel I get with grams
In my few bars, I run through niggas like my last few cars
And 'em up, the boy mighta went platinum but don't gas him up
I get his and his width and get his casket cut
I don't deal the snakes and fakes
But I deal with the comas and wakes, I don't make
r now bitch you oughta know i'ma ghost
Blow up your face, blow up the coke, and up the smoke