Luyện nghe bài hát Holiday

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

[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
when these bullets hit yo' ass I'm like it's only a gat
I need a funeral to feel good, I'm hopin yours
Think he religious? Heard he got shot in the
Styles, bitch I broke most of the laws
Fuck with the Porsche or flip to the boots, to the truth
Do anything it takes to get me this loot
And missin a tooth, but of 'em chipped, toaster is gripped
You about the trouble, I start most of the shit
When I squeeze no controllin the wrist
And niggas leave the room when hear the P flowin to Swizz
I'm an and negative nigga
I sell crack, guns, pop shit, and say I'm better than niggas
You think not, I'll look at your man and a nigga
If you think a rapper's better why you give me his name
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 eight and three quarters, but I'm bigger than
If I left the gun home, give you the sword
I'm the devil in the flesh, I give you the Lord
It don't make no for you to pray for your life
I got my niggas in the crib, you oughta pray for your

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

Paniro]
Yo..
I do it all for my niggas, even ride wit a
Get shot, die in his arm, and him my last
a million dollar bail, I'ma get it in cash
I sell like it's '88, I live in the past
You know the P the gun, live in the Maz'
Tell show me the money and gimme the stash
I Malibu and pineapple, fifties of hash
Hundreds of 'dro, my clothes a week in a row
Sleep on the floor, catch me right to the dog
I'm Holiday Styles, and what the weaponry for
And I probably won't blow for the fact I'm hard
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 the old timers, stashin the cards
But jail aint of the plans
I keep weight on the '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 went but don't gas him up
I get his length and his and get his casket cut
I don't deal with the and fakes
But I deal with the and wakes, I don't make mistakes
Double R now bitch you know I'ma ghost
up your face, blow up the coke, and blow up the smoke