Luyện nghe bài hát Holiday

L-O-X
It stop
It keep goin, and goin, and goin, and

[Styles
You heard it from the P, you oughta know it's the
I get you and raped and thrown off a roof
You could nod your head to this it's only a rap
cause when these hit yo' ass I'm like it's only a gat
I need a funeral to good, I'm hopin it's yours
Think he religious? Heard he got in the cross
Holiday Styles, bitch I broke most of the
Fuck with the Porsche or to the boots, stick to the truth
Do it takes just to get me this loot
And missin a tooth, but of 'em chipped, toaster is gripped
You heard about the trouble, I most of the shit
When I squeeze no controllin the wrist
And niggas leave the room they hear the P flowin to Swizz
I'm an ignorant and negative
I sell crack, bust guns, pop shit, and say I'm better niggas
You think not, I'll look at your man and a nigga
If you think a rapper's 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 nigga to
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 for your life
I got my in the crib, you oughta pray for your wife

Jadakiss and Styles
Jadakiss: Uh huh,
Styles: I gotta make it to heaven for goin through
J:
S: And I don't care if I sell, y'all know what I
J:
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, ride wit a bomb
Get shot, die in his arm, and him my last
It's a million dollar bail, I'ma get it in
I sell crack like it's '88, I in the past
You know the P the gun, live in the Maz'
Tell niggas show me the money and the stash
I Malibu and pineapple, fifties of hash
of 'dro, wear my clothes a week in a row
Sleep on the floor, catch me next to the dog
I'm Styles, and that's what the weaponry for
And I probably won't blow for the fact that I'm
But I'm with ten million in the back of the car
Either that or get and lift the rack in the yard
Gettin jewels the old timers, stashin the cards
But jail aint part of the
I weight on the scale 'cause I feel I get further with grams
In my last few bars, I run through niggas my last few cars
And crash 'em up, the boy mighta platinum but don't gas him up
I get his length and his and get his casket cut
I don't with the snakes and fakes
But I with the comas and wakes, I don't make mistakes
R now bitch you oughta know I'ma ghost
Blow up face, blow up the coke, and blow up the smoke