Luyện nghe bài hát Hold Up

Yeah, nigga, yeah, south Queens
right, Q U, nigga, yea yea
Shit that, know what Im sayin', put these drinks up
Ya heard? Let's do this right, Yo

Hold up, is for my thugs on the block
For my one stop niggaz be huggin' the spot
Sittin' on crates, gettin' loaded, get cake
Dodgin' drinks, spit and hafta cover they

Kick some tye, big truck tricks inside
In too deep, tryna sell bricks the side
See no games, with real niggaz from hoods
Car titles get lost, some niggaz get

But God forgive me if a cross the fam
Holdin' the heat, the streets'll make me force ya
From my wild crew, the new guns off the roof
To them slick dudes, hot and they the phone booth

'Cuz Lord, knows, I'm reload and bust back
gats, indicted for a federal rap
They duck low enough, shots shredded they hat
Murdered and gone, nigga, it's a medical

up, this is for my gangsta team
And my dime little mamis rockin' and jeans
When on, know, we ain't afraid to clap them things
In the club, bent, goin' crazy

Hold up, is for my gangsta team
And my dime little mamis timbs and jeans
it's on, know, we ain't afraid to clap them things
In the club, bent, goin' crazy

Hold up, this is for my chicks in the
All my bus stop bitches that be pushin' them
Playin' the gate, get it ma, get papes

Hustle that face, G's below ya waist
Project chick, whips, cruisin' the strip
Gettin' for tuition, go to school and she strip

Kill in the club, when niggaz dicks get
Murda mami, set you up and niggaz get robbed
Help her soul if a try to set my team
I'm her up, rep till the death of Queens
All my staircase niggaz keep the jun's

All my outta state niggaz keep them ones
in the air, hit you with invisible glocks
That mean you never see it nigga, fifty two shots
I'm takin' ya nigga, if you like it or not
You either roll or get rushed, I not

Hold up, is for my gangsta team
And my little mamis rockin' timbs and jeans
When it's on, know, we ain't to clap them things
In the club, bent, goin' crazy

Hold up, this is for my team
And my dime mamis rockin' timbs and jeans
When it's on, know, we ain't to clap them things
In the club, gettin' bent, goin'

Sticky fingaz, the nigga that be stickin' spots
For all my gun-cock niggards, that be off shots
Lay in the straight, black mask ya gate
Show me ya safe before I put two in ya

Dirt on my kicks, all lookin' for whips
Catch a rat nigga, leave his Bentley on bricks
Bloody fights in the yard
Ten times outta ten, step to me and ya life get

outs in broad daylight, bustin' at feds
Dirty cops with a ki of coke, 'em out dead
For my niggaz, stashin' bangers deep in they cots
For my grimy niggaz, hidin' under cars cops

Empty the glock, hitchu with gats
Bust you, it off, throw it away, it's a rap
What I see you back in the hood scrap
ya Benz to a coffin nigga, straight like that

Hold up, is for my gangsta team
And my dime little mamis rockin' and jeans
When it's on, know, we ain't to clap them things
In the club, bent, goin' crazy

Hold up, is for my gangsta team
And my dime little mamis timbs and jeans
When it's on, know, we ain't afraid to clap things
In the club, gettin' bent, goin'

up
South Queens, enjoy
South suicide Queens,