Luyện nghe bài hát Sicc & High

Brotha
(Talking)
Yeah man, ya know, I was trying to tell you man,
nigga was trippin out man. I did all kinds of shit,
for him and shit, and I help that outa bad situations, you know?
Cuz was trippin man, I was man.
Still was talking shit nigga, dirty ass songs me and shit, you know.
Man, so I hit him back:

you tha, king of comedy,
and Ima be g what Ima be.
Let you see that shit at range,
I tap you with the bang, wrap you up in cellophane (sphhhh).
be the endin, no pretendin,
siccmade and side crash?, do a drive by wide em.
Do or die by in em, get in em, any time, any where.
Cut through the lane Chris Webber.
Better get it together nigga, I toughen up your with a,
touch, you in the neck, get my respect, you muthafuckin bet.
Might as well not sweat when I put these to your set,
and leave you, like robinson.
My oozie 24 tons, and I got them,
niggas on rum in em, and 221s, you getted this done.
why I pack my gun,
cause when you tappin into this gangsta shit you gotta yo gun.
niggas gon shoot, some niggas gon run.
Its all mathematical, bet off and get tragical?,
holding out the cadillac with the metal thangs,
to do ghetto thang, you know, cellophane.
To hit them thangs,
smash off in the cup you get that hedikane?
You watch that medic bring, bags and gloves.
I be thug (why?), I made that decision a long time ago.
40s in plash? dominoes,
goin drama with hoes, you know how it goes.
I aint been no shows, aint been steppin on no toes.
But the p11 9mm ruben (whats that?), is the I chose.
I dont need cause Im clutch like shaq diesel,
and I love the way the ruben dead people.
em comin out the church steeple,
he did my people.
You know, to the first degree,
and Im walkin to my funeral, so it aint no hearsin me.

Bouncin off to the turf, is A-Blocc,
Im posted yayrocks?, to see right through these niggas character.
They blasted like the glock, watch keeps lookin,
but I keep jookin, shit I know where gots his birdies cookin.
I crook em.
See the plots to get quicker, make my feddy thicker,
off the finest liquors, pass pen, triggas get clutched.
I get my man, MOB, thats money over bitches,
six straight rags with switches, got the feds pictures,
half heart half dope, invested my ism, is pimp, hes upset with a hoe.
And made her till my pockets got the mumps like gody?
Ask the little bitch, she said, oh hes a cody.
So D, pistols everything fake IDs.
I put hoes in shady niggas, left them through our piece.
Roll dese the ghetto, vogues smoked like indo.
High chases throwin choppers out the window.
Im wanted by the task, and ass niggas gun blast,
and all I wanted was the cash.
Shit its like Im hunted but I get blunted rollin through the set.
Ima do my thing for now though, cause aint killed me yet,
and if I die I die, shit, dont even shed a tear.
Im off where Im goin man, cause I aint happy here.
Got no fear, shit, them niggas bruise I bruise,
lose screws? I do, nigga, choose how you choose nigga, ooh!