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 back to your
The one kid that would've been that got away
But we still get together like every years
To sprinkle, a little bit of Heaven for ears
Relax sippin' Cliquot in Rio, fuckers
Low-key, know G's, but it's still luggage
I love Cod, and watching fly bitches with grey eyes
in a tub of KY to get my day by
I like to celebrate, - cause I can vision
Collages and images of my lies with no regret to
So breath 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 never

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

He a O.G
(Mix that with a true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some different blocks
(West Coast kill the tracks) East Coast
He a O.G
(Mix that with a QB-QB 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 with 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, spent the on a dub sack
Ripped the off "Illmatic" and bumped that
For my it was too complex when Nas rhymed
I was the Compton 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
Fast forward, now I'm makin 'em
Ended my peers careers, hollered at Nas, a hard was learned"
So I reconciled my differences he did with Jigga
I beefin' with niggas, cause I'm "Ether" to niggas
the earth 'til there's no one left
"If I Ruled the World" I summons all you weak rap niggas to

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

Yo, the sportin'
Come off the dice game with a fortune walking, you a coffin'
The musket I tucked it, you it I bust it
You're talking, so I lay often
I patient, to duct 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 that "Soul Plane" movie's the
to my mom's 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 malarky you yappin'
I open up the tripod to put the gatling on, and I clapping
man, from bagging grams and running from cops
To a mill' on the hand, a on the watch, I'm fucking with Doc

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