Luyện nghe bài hát Holy Moly

Yeah, as a kid up in Brooklyn
My pops was a DJ, he had a bunch of
Funk, jazz, and blues, soul, you know what I'm sayin'?

There was this one record I liked like, like
Like holy moly, I get some religion and leave you holy, holy
Yeah, this rhyme is so fat, it's poly
I give you details so you can get to know me

These corporate rappers like, "Why dude pickin' on me?"
You rap your way to the top but now it's lonely
Kids is hungry and you lookin' like a steak from & Tony's
But don't nobody want your jewels 'cause your shit is

Say word? Your shit is real? Damn, your shit is
Rhymes turn a new page like Foley
And touch kids like when Larry Clark gave the to Chloe

in peace to Harold Hunter, the greatest from New York
Started out for Zoo York, word
out at The Gavin, I was very lucky
To to Rash' once I got past Derek Dudley

Got him on respiration, that's
Bet you Reid got a Matt Doo tattoo
I feel like I'm drownin', I gotta tread water
Head the water, I always remember headquarters

Heads up, open, I got my mind focused
I find hope inside a line, my define opus
Sometimes hopeless people fill my thoughts evil
My record so hard it the needle

At the Mixtape Awards niggaz act like don't give a fuck though
And disrespect the of Justo
What the blood No, let the blood flow
You ain't come to pay your respect, then what you fo'?

Too many good niggaz die, it's like a stop
Hood niggaz ghetto fried wings and hot sauce
How you hard? The cops lettin' 50 off
Baby Jay-Z's the knockoff Scott Storch beat

You are not Short, you are not
You're not a player or a pimp, stop that
Learn to your speech and be eloquent
Rappers keep peddlin' sweets, the beats weaker gelatin

We to kick up dust, now we settlin'
Rest in to Dilla, Weldon, we can't forget you
Professor X and Proof we you, word

Rest in peace to Shaka, 21 gun
In the air like blak, blak,
You're still here 'cause you're livin' me
You're like a gift God has to me, what?