Luyện nghe bài hát Interlude

Yeah,
Straight out the holy to holdin' grams
Tra-tra-trappin' out vans with goals and plans
Lonely man, bein' 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 the drugs out the foil
Man these arms can't you, AR's won't recoil
Goddamn, I might marry a and move to Paris
Fuck the carriage baby, let's go disappear and just
Thirty in the gold
I wear it to cherish the kings from which we
My chariot is
It's all
numbers, you incoherent
Don't be embarrassed, I blame your parents for even
Or not aborting, ah fuck it, not important
My vital organs can't even tell if it's night or
Final warning, final warning, warning
Every morning awake and await mourning
We earn it we burn it to ash
I it urn money
My dog caught 40 he turned 20
Money is earned, the is inherited
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 arrogance, goddamn
Money, hoes, that's that you can't chase
I ain't but let you eat from the same plate
If you ungrateful then you ain't
Me and Khaled come from the place
Huh, holy land, holy
Back I was holdin' grams just to haul a Benz
Yeah, holy land, holy
My never was a holy man