Luyện nghe bài hát Holiday

L-O-X
It don't
It goin, and goin, and goin, and goin

[Styles
You it from the P, you oughta know it's the truth
I get you kidnapped and raped and off a roof
You could nod your head to this like it's a rap
cause these bullets hit yo' ass I'm like it's only a gat
I need a funeral to feel good, I'm it's yours
Think he Heard he got shot in the cross
Styles, bitch I broke most of the laws
Fuck the Porsche or flip 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 the room when they hear the P flowin to Swizz
I'm an ignorant and nigga
I crack, bust guns, pop shit, and say I'm better than niggas
You think not, I'll at your man and level a nigga
If you think a rapper's better why don't you give me his
So I can run up on him, him up and give you his frame
it comes to the streets, I'm the nigga to call
Five and three quarters, but I'm bigger than y'all
If I left the gun home, I'ma you the sword
I'm the devil in the flesh, I can't you the Lord
It don't make no for you to pray for your life
I got my niggas in the crib, you pray for your wife

CHORUS: and Styles
Uh huh, HOLIDAY
Styles: I gotta make it to heaven for goin through
J:
S: And I don't care if I sell, know what I sell
J:
S: I use my left when I'm loadin the shells
J:
S: 'cause I know it aint right, that's why I'm a L

[Styles
Yo..
I do it all for my niggas, even ride wit a
Get shot, die in his arm, and him my last
It's a dollar bail, I'ma get it in cash
I sell crack like '88, I live in the past
You the P carry the gun, live in the Maz'
niggas show me the money and gimme the stash
I like Malibu and pineapple, of hash
of 'dro, wear my clothes a week in a row
Sleep on the floor, catch me next to the dog
I'm Holiday Styles, and that's what the for
And I probably won't blow for the fact that I'm
But I'm good with ten million in the of the car
Either that or get life and lift the rack in the
jewels from the old timers, stashin the cards
But jail aint of the plans
I keep weight on the scale 'cause I I get further with grams
In my last few bars, I run through niggas my last few cars
And crash 'em up, the boy went platinum but don't gas him up
I get his length and his width and get his cut
I deal with the snakes and fakes
But I deal the comas and wakes, I don't make mistakes
Double R now bitch you know I'ma ghost
Blow up your face, up the coke, and blow up the smoke