Luyện nghe bài hát Hustlers

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

Way before The Firm, back in the day
Nas was the first New nigga rappin' with Dre
So of I got a track to bring it back to your face
The one kid that would've been Aftermath got away
But we still get together like several years
To sprinkle, a bit of Heaven for your ears
Relax sippin' in Rio, stupid fuckers
Low-key, know G's, but it's Gucci luggage
I love Cape Cod, and fly bitches with grey eyes
in a tub of KY to get my day by
I like to celebrate, why? - I can vision
and images of my lies with no regret to hate
So every breath I take, is all about the
It's for you to breathe like you at high altitude
So crack the Patron, it's on heathens, The God's
Hard body, Mr. Jones leaving

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

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

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

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

Yo, the Jordans
Come off the dice game a fortune walking, you a walking coffin'
The musket I tucked it, you bluff it I it
You're sideways talking, so I lay
I wait patient, to duct hatin'
Fuck ass niggas, get ass niggas
Pluck ashes - of Cuban cigars, you with Nas
my name and I came with Rugers this time
And if I'm sane that "Soul Plane" the bomb
to my mom's name tattooed to my arm
You can't revolve me, me, calm me or harm me
Rob me or dodge bullets I'm busting
See malarky you yappin'
I open up the tripod to put the on, and I start clapping
Nasty man, from bagging grams and 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
East to West Coast we
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top
Make cake, cop two five fivers
Pimps and players, platinum
to West Coast we ridin'