Luyện nghe bài hát Interlude

Yeah,
out the holy land to holdin' grams
Tra-tra-trappin' out stolen vans goals and plans
Lonely man, remember my only fan
I'm down and up, the Midas touch, the hand
in the soil is over oil
Cold-hearted, my blood
The spoils of war are used to take the drugs out the
Man these arms can't reach you, AR's recoil
Goddamn, I might marry a heiress and move to
the carriage baby, let's go disappear and just perish
Thirty in the gold
I it to cherish the kings from which we inherit
My is McLaren
all numeric
Talkin' numbers, you
Don't be embarrassed, I blame parents for even caring
Or not aborting, ah fuck it, it's not
My vital organs can't even tell if it's or morning
Final warning, warning, final warning
Every morning you'll awake and mourning
We earn it then we it to ash
I call it urn
My dog caught 40 before he 20
Money is earned, the rest is
Hashish come Marrakech, all my kush is American
Man I feel like a therapist, on me like Maravich
I careless, I'm so perilous with all of this arrogance,
Money, hoes, that's something that you can't
I ain't shit but let you eat from the plate
If you ungrateful then you ain't
Me and Khaled from the same place
Huh, holy land, holy
Back when I was holdin' grams just to a Benz
Yeah, land, holy land
My never was a holy man