Luyện nghe bài hát Holy Moly

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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