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 nigga rappin' with Dre
So of course I got a track to bring it back to your
The one kid that would've been Aftermath got away
But we get together like every several years
To sprinkle, a bit of Heaven for your ears
Relax Cliquot in Rio, stupid fuckers
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? - I can vision
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 like you at high altitude
So crack the Patron, on heathens, The God's back
Hard body, Mr. never leaving

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

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

1995, eleven from the day
I'm in the record shop with to make
"Illmatic" on the top shelf, "The Chronic" on the homie
Wanna cop both but only got a 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 when Nas
I was the only Compton nigga with a "New York of Mind"
Inside the dope house bottlin' up sherm, The Firm
Dre was king so I waited 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 beefin' with niggas, 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 with a QB-QB true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some ghetto blocks
(West kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots

Yo, the sportin'
off the dice game with a fortune walking, you a walking coffin'
The musket I tucked it, you bluff it I it
sideways 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 this time
And if I'm that "Soul Plane" movie's the bomb
Word to my name tattooed to my arm
You can't revolve me, me, calm me or harm me
Rob me or dodge these I'm busting
See malarky you yappin'
I up the tripod to put the gatling on, and I start clapping
Nasty man, bagging grams and running from cops
To a mill' on the hand, a on the watch, I'm fucking with Doc

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