Luyện nghe bài hát Hustlers

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

Way before The Firm, like in the day
Nas was the first New York nigga rappin' Dre
So of course I got a track to it back to your face
The one kid that would've been that got away
But we get together like every several years
To sprinkle, a little bit of for your ears
Relax sippin' Cliquot in Rio, stupid
Low-key, know G's, but it's 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, why? - cause I can
and images of my lies with no regret to hate
So every I take, is all about the rules
It's hard for you to breathe you at high altitude
So crack the Patron, it's on heathens, The God's
Hard body, Mr. Jones leaving

Hustlers, dealers, drop-top
that cake, cop two five fivers
Pimps and players, diamonds
to West Coast we riders
Hustlers, dealers, riders
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 concoction of some different ghetto
(West Coast the tracks) East Coast gunshots
He a O.G
(Mix with a QB-QB true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some ghetto blocks
(West Coast kill the tracks) 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 homie
Wanna cop both but got a twenty on me
So fuck it, I both, spent the twenty on a dub sack
Ripped the off "Illmatic" and bumped that
For my niggas it was too complex Nas rhymed
I was the only nigga with a "New York State of Mind"
the dope house bottlin' up sherm, bangin' The Firm
Dre was king then so I waited my
forward, now I'm makin 'em burn
Ended my careers, hollered at Nas, a hard lesson was learned"
So I reconciled my differences he did with Jigga
I stopped beefin' with niggas, cause I'm "Ether" to
Comb the earth there's no one left
"If I Ruled the World" I summons all you weak rap niggas to

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

Yo, the Jordans
Come off the dice with 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 tape
Fuck ass niggas, get bucked ass
ashes - of Cuban cigars, you fooling with Nas
That's my name and I came Rugers this time
And if I'm sane that "Soul Plane" the bomb
Word to my name tattooed to my arm
You can't me, embalm me, calm me or harm me
Rob me or dodge bullets I'm busting
See that's malarky you
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 cake, cop two five fivers
Pimps and players, platinum
to West Coast we ridin'
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top
Make that cake, cop two five
Pimps and players, platinum
to West Coast we ridin'