Luyện nghe bài hát Interlude

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Yeah,
out the holy land to holdin' grams
Tra-tra-trappin' out stolen vans with and plans
Lonely man, remember bein' my fan
I'm and up, the Midas touch, the golden hand
in the soil is over oil
Cold-hearted, my blood
The of war are used to take the drugs out the foil
Man these arms can't reach you, AR's recoil
Goddamn, I might marry a heiress and to Paris
Fuck the carriage baby, go disappear and just perish
Thirty in the gold
I it to cherish the kings from which we inherit
My is McLaren
It's all
numbers, you incoherent
Don't be embarrassed, I your parents for even caring
Or not aborting, ah fuck it, not important
My vital organs can't even tell if it's or morning
warning, final warning, final warning
Every morning awake and await mourning
We earn it we burn it to ash
I call it urn
My dog caught 40 he turned 20
Money is earned, the rest is
Hashish come Marrakech, all my kush is American
Man I feel like a therapist, pistol on me Maravich
I careless, I'm so with all of this arrogance, goddamn
Money, hoes, that's that you can't chase
I ain't shit but let you eat from the same
If you then you ain't great
Me and Khaled come from the place
Huh, land, holy land
when I was holdin' grams just to haul a Benz
Yeah, holy land, land
My father was a holy man