Luyện nghe bài hát Holiday

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

[Styles
You heard it from the P, you oughta know the truth
I get you kidnapped and raped and off a roof
You could nod your head to this it's only a rap
cause when these bullets hit yo' ass I'm like only a gat
I a funeral to feel good, I'm hopin it's yours
Think he religious? Heard he got in the cross
Holiday Styles, bitch I broke of the laws
Fuck with the Porsche or to the boots, stick to the truth
Do anything it just to get me this loot
And missin a tooth, but both of 'em chipped, is gripped
You heard the trouble, I start most of the shit
When I aint no controllin the wrist
And niggas leave the room when they hear the P to Swizz
I'm an and negative nigga
I sell crack, bust guns, pop shit, and say I'm than niggas
You think not, I'll look at man and level a nigga
If you think a rapper's why don't you give me his name
So I can run up on him, tear him up and give you his
it comes to the streets, I'm the nigga to call
Five and three quarters, but I'm bigger than y'all
If I the gun home, I'ma give you the sword
I'm the in the flesh, I can't give you the Lord
It make no sense for you to pray for your life
I got my niggas in the crib, you oughta pray for wife

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

[Styles
Yo..
I do it all for my niggas, even wit a bomb
Get shot, die in his arm, and give him my
It's a million dollar bail, I'ma get it in
I sell like it's '88, I live in the past
You know the P carry the gun, live in the
Tell niggas me the money and gimme the stash
I Malibu and pineapple, fifties of hash
Hundreds of 'dro, wear my clothes a in a row
Sleep on the floor, me right next to the dog
I'm Holiday Styles, and that's the weaponry for
And I probably won't blow for the fact I'm hard
But I'm good ten million in the back of the car
Either or get life and lift the rack in the yard
Gettin from the old timers, stashin the cards
But jail part of the plans
I keep weight on the scale 'cause I feel I get with grams
In my last few bars, I run through niggas like my few cars
And crash 'em up, the boy mighta went platinum but 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 comas and wakes, I don't make
Double R now bitch you know I'ma ghost
Blow up your face, up the coke, and blow up the smoke