Luyện nghe bài hát Sick Of Hustlin

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

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

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

I'm sick of hustlin, I had enough enough of
Stuffin the bricks, the cops, they try to me quick
And your face in the mud, why is you fuckers sick
I go to jail, homie I'ma up the fifth
It's so unfortunate, my actions me up to this
Just there's other people like me and they stuck in this
State of mind, the meetin the blind
Everybody get they information the grapevine
We could make it but niggaz just tryin
I own the cops, I'm to witness a hate crime
They make time, according to what the jakes
Hustlin is like, squeezing grapes 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 gate
Hop in the truck, and we hit the interstate
I try to stop but the in me ain't dyin

And Ma$e said he bought a drop to tour on
But Ma$e even go, that's a oxy moron
penetrate the chest of the innocent
Half the brock runners, strip they ever get is in
My nigga Heron, he goes to in Iraq
He get right and have to fight blacks
So you could go elsewhere, back, no healthcare
on wellfare, they tell you to put yourself there
So we slang 'caine, gangbang, sane
If even possible, a nigga gotta maintain
We put little bags of rocks in the of children
And conceal them they're standing by abandon buildings
The richer we get, the the hood
Tyson is broke but is good
Touching the fo-fo, it so so tight
I don't wanna to hustle no more, right