Luyện nghe bài hát Holy Moly

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

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

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

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

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

Got him on respiration, pre-Badu
Bet you Garnett got a Matt Doo tattoo
Sometimes I feel like I'm drownin', I gotta water
Head above the water, I always headquarters

Heads up, eyes open, I got my focused
I find hope inside a line, my rhymes define
Sometimes people fill my thoughts with evil
My record so hard it broke the

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

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

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

We used to up dust, now we settlin'
in peace to Dilla, Weldon, we can't forget you
Professor X and Proof we miss you,

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