Luyện nghe bài hát Hustlers

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

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

Hustlers, dealers, drop-top
Make that cake, cop two fivers
Pimps and players, platinum
East to 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 QB-QB G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some ghetto blocks
(West kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots
He a O.G
(Mix with a QB-QB true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto
(West Coast kill the tracks) East gunshots

1995, eleven years the day
I'm in the record shop with choices to
"Illmatic" on the top shelf, "The Chronic" on the homie
Wanna cop but only got a twenty on me
So it, I stole both, spent 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 only nigga with a "New York State of Mind"
Inside the dope house up sherm, bangin' The Firm
Dre was king then so I my turn
Fast forward, now I'm makin 'em
Ended my peers careers, hollered at Nas, a lesson was learned"
So I my differences like he did with Jigga
I stopped with niggas, cause I'm "Ether" to niggas
Comb the 'til there's no one left
"If I the World" I summons all you weak rap niggas to death

He a O.G
(Mix with a QB-QB true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto
(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 it I bust it
sideways talking, so I lay often
I wait patient, to tape hatin'
Fuck ass niggas, get ass niggas
Pluck ashes - of Cuban cigars, you fooling Nas
That's my name and I came with Rugers this
And if I'm sane "Soul Plane" movie's 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 malarky you yappin'
I open up the to put the gatling on, and I start clapping
man, from bagging grams and running from cops
To a mill' on the hand, a mill' on the watch, I'm fucking Doc

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