Luyện nghe bài hát Sick Of Hustlin

Ohh, JU-ICE, got my Heron in the house with
me tonight. Conglom in bitch, wattup Marvo
Whole in this motherfucker, for real. Malik
when is you gonna holla at yo boy I told you
niggaz the truth was

I visualize a time when we can stop
A cops while we on the blocks rock smugglin
And these little stones is so addictive
Niggaz even with they homes, is some sick shit
But in the hood, you either known or you bail them out of county
Shit, you either own them, or you them for a bounty
Some do both
Or crook it up too, all three like Kukoc
All this income, and the block starvin
No monopoly, upscale gardens, not Marvin
The hood's real loaded up, my slaughter jerks
No boards to walk, you if the water works
As I move on, I start to see the law it
The hood's and I'm partially the cause of it
Very few get to start in this
It's like the trey payin for profit, it's to explain

I sold a lot of pounds, in and out of
A nigga gotta clown. *I'm of hustlin*
I moved a lotta weight, a lot of states
I could die today. *I'm of hustlin*
I a lotta bricks, screwed a lotta chicks
Viewed a lotta whips. sick of hustlin*
I a lotta rules, I shake a lotta fools
I a lotta dues. *I'm sick of hustlin*

I'm of hustlin, I had enough enough of this
Stuffin the bricks, the cops, they try to me quick
And throw your face in the mud, why is you fuckers
Before I go to jail, homie up the fifth
It's so unfortunate, my brough me up to this
Just know there's other people me and they stuck in this
State of mind, the blind the blind
Everybody get they information the grapevine
We could make it but just hate tryin
I own the cops, I'm 'bout to a hate crime
make time, according to what the jakes find
Hustlin is like, squeezing tryin to make wine
I'm tryin to a whole lotta bread and break mine
I'm on the block, cops come, it's hit the time
Hop in the truck, and we hit the interstate
I try to stop but the in me ain't dyin

And Ma$e even said he bought a drop to on
But Ma$e even go, that's a oxy moron
Bullets penetrate the of the innocent
the brock runners, only strip they ever get is in
My nigga Heron, he to fight in Iraq
He get back and have to fight blacks
So you go elsewhere, come back, no healthcare
Wife on wellfare, they you to put yourself there
So we 'caine, gangbang, remain sane
If it's even possible, a gotta maintain
We put little of rocks in the hands of children
And conceal them while they're by abandon buildings
The richer we get, the broker the
Tyson is but Oprah is good
the fo-fo, clutching it so so tight
I wanna have to hustle no more, right