Luyện nghe bài hát Interlude

Yeah,
out the holy land to holdin' grams
Tra-tra-trappin' out vans with goals and plans
Lonely man, remember bein' my fan
I'm down and up, the touch, the golden hand
Blood in the soil is oil
Cold-hearted, my boils
The spoils of war are used to the drugs out the foil
Man these arms can't reach you, AR's won't
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 is McLaren
It's all
Talkin' numbers, you
Don't be embarrassed, I blame your for even caring
Or not aborting, ah fuck it, not important
My vital organs can't even if it's night or morning
Final warning, final warning, warning
Every morning you'll and await mourning
We earn it then we it to ash
I call it urn
My dog 40 before he turned 20
Money is earned, the is inherited
Hashish come from Marrakech, all my is American
Man I feel a therapist, pistol 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 same
If you then you ain't great
Me and come from the same place
Huh, holy land, holy
Back when I was holdin' grams just to haul a
Yeah, holy land, land
My father was a holy man