Luyện nghe bài hát Hustlers

Dre, he a O.G
Nas, he a true G
Do the

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

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

He a O.G
(Mix that a QB-QB true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some ghetto blocks
(West kill 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 blocks
(West Coast kill the tracks) East 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
cop both 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 that
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 bottlin' up sherm, bangin' The
Dre was king then so I my turn
Fast forward, now I'm 'em burn
Ended my peers careers, hollered at Nas, a 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 all you weak rap niggas to death

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

Yo, the sportin'
Come off the dice with a fortune walking, you a walking coffin'
The musket I tucked it, you it I bust it
You're talking, so I lay often
I wait patient, to tape hatin'
Fuck ass niggas, get ass niggas
Pluck - of Cuban cigars, you fooling with Nas
That's my and I came with Rugers this time
And if I'm sane that "Soul Plane" the bomb
Word to my mom's tattooed to my arm
You can't revolve me, embalm me, me or harm me
Rob me or these bullets I'm busting
See that's malarky you
I up the tripod to put the gatling on, and I start clapping
Nasty man, from bagging grams and from cops
To a on the hand, a mill' on the watch, I'm fucking with Doc

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