Luyện nghe bài hát Holiday

L o x
It stop
It goin, and goin, and goin, and goin

[styles
You heard it the p, you oughta know it's the truth
I get you kidnapped and raped and off a roof
You could nod head to this like it's only a rap
'cause when these bullets hit your ass I'm like it's a gat
I need a funeral to good, I'm hopin it's yours
Think you delicious, heard he got in the cross
Holiday styles, bitch I broke most of the
Fuck with the poor, so to the boots, stick to the truth
Do anything it just to give it a slue
And missin a tooth, but both of 'em chipped, is gripped
You heard about the trouble, I start most of the
When I ain't no controllin the wrist
And niggas leave the room when the hear the p his whis
I'm an ignorant and nigga
I sell crack, guns, pop shit, and say I'm better than niggas
You not, I'll look at your man and level a nigga
If you think a rapper's better why don't you me his name
So I can run up on him, him up and give you his frame
it comes to the streets, I'm the nigga to call
Five eight and three quarters, but I'm bigger than
If I left the gun home, i'ma give you the
I'm the devil in the flesh, I give you the lord
It don't make no sense for you to for your life
I got my niggas in the crib, you oughta for your wife

[chorus: and styles]
[jadakiss:] uh huh,
[styles:] I gotta make it to heaven for goin through
holiday
[s:] and I don't care if I sell, y'all what I sell
[j:]
[s:] I use my left when I'm loadin the shells
[j:]
[s:] I know it ain't right, that's why I'm blowin a l

[styles
Yo, I do it all for my niggas, rob wit a bomb
Get shot, die in his arm, and give him my
It's a million dollar bail, i'ma get it in
I sell crack like '88, I live in the past
You know the p carry the gun, live in the
Tell niggas show me the and gimme the stash
I like malibu and pineapple, fifty's of
Hundred's of dro, wear my clothes a in a row
Sleep on the floor, catch me next to the dog
I'm holiday styles, and what the weaponry for
And I probably won't blow for the that I'm hard
But I'm good ten million in the back of the car
Either or get life and lift the rack in the yard
Gettin from the old timers, stashin the cards
But jail ain't part of the
I keep weight on the 'cause I feel I get further with grams
In my few bars, I run through niggas like my last few cars
And crash 'em up, the boy mighta platinum but don't gas him up
I get his and his width and get his casket cut
I don't deal the snakes and fakes
But I deal with the comas and wakes, I don't mistakes
r now bitch you oughta know i'ma ghost
Blow up your face, blow up the coke, and up the smoke