Luyện nghe bài hát Sick Of Hustlin

Ohh, JU-ICE, got my nigga Heron in the house
me tonight. Conglom in this bitch, wattup
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 dozen cops while we on the blocks rock
And these gray stones is so addictive
Niggaz even paid with they homes, is some shit
But in the hood, you either known them or you them out of county
Shit, you either own them, or you them for a bounty
even do both
Or crook it up too, shit all three like
All this income, and the block starvin
No monopoly, upscale gardens, not Marvin
The hood's real loaded up, my clip slaughter
No boards to walk, you lucky if the works
As I on, I start to see the law love it
The broken and I'm partially the cause of it
Very few get to start in game
like 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 moved a weight, through a lot of states
I could die today. *I'm of hustlin*
I moved a bricks, screwed a lotta chicks
Viewed a lotta whips. *I'm sick of
I break a lotta rules, I a lotta fools
I paid a lotta dues. sick of hustlin*

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

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