Luyện nghe bài hát Hustlers

Dre, he a O.G
Nas, he a QB-QB G
Do the

Way The Firm, like back in the day
Nas was the first New York nigga with Dre
So of course I got a track to bring it back to face
The one kid would've been Aftermath that got away
But we still get together like several years
To sprinkle, a little bit of Heaven for ears
Relax sippin' in Rio, stupid fuckers
Low-key, know G's, but still Gucci luggage
I love Cape Cod, and watching fly with grey eyes
in a tub of KY to get my day by
I like to celebrate, - cause I can vision
and images of my lies with no regret to hate
So every breath I take, is all about the
It's hard for you to breathe like you at high
So crack the Patron, on heathens, The God's back
Hard body, Mr. never leaving

Hustlers, dealers, riders
Make cake, cop two five fivers
and players, platinum diamonds
East to West Coast we
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top
Make that cake, cop two five
Pimps and players, diamonds
East to Coast we riders

He a O.G
(Mix that with a QB-QB G)
(What you got's) A concoction of different ghetto blocks
(West Coast the tracks) East Coast gunshots
He a O.G
(Mix that a QB-QB true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto
(West Coast the tracks) East Coast gunshots

1995, years from the day
I'm in the record shop choices to make
"Illmatic" on the top shelf, "The Chronic" on the left
Wanna cop but only got a twenty on me
So fuck it, I stole both, the twenty on a dub sack
Ripped the package off "Illmatic" and bumped
For my it was too complex when Nas rhymed
I was the Compton nigga with a "New York State of Mind"
Inside the dope house up sherm, bangin' The Firm
Dre was king then so I waited my
forward, now I'm makin 'em burn
Ended my peers careers, at Nas, a hard lesson was learned"
So I reconciled my differences like he did with
I stopped beefin' with niggas, cause I'm "Ether" to
the earth 'til there's no one left
"If I Ruled the World" I summons all you rap niggas to death

He a O.G
(Mix with a QB-QB true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of different ghetto blocks
(West kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots

Yo, the sportin'
Come off the dice game with a fortune walking, you a walking
The musket I it, you bluff it I bust it
sideways talking, so I lay often
I patient, to duct tape hatin'
Fuck ass niggas, get bucked ass
ashes - of Cuban cigars, you fooling with Nas
That's my name and I came with this time
And if I'm that "Soul Plane" movie's the bomb
Word to my name tattooed to my arm
You can't revolve me, embalm me, calm me or me
Rob me or dodge these I'm busting
See that's malarky you
I open up the tripod to put the on, and I start clapping
Nasty man, bagging grams and running from cops
To a mill' on the hand, a mill' on the watch, I'm fucking Doc

Hustlers, dealers, riders
Make that cake, cop two five
Pimps and players, platinum
to West Coast we ridin'
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top
Make that cake, cop two five
Pimps and players, platinum
East to West Coast we