Luyện nghe bài hát Sick Of Hustlin

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

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

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

I'm sick of hustlin, I had enough enough of
Stuffin the bricks, the cops, they try to cuff me
And throw your in the mud, why is you fuckers sick
I go to jail, homie I'ma up the fifth
It's so unfortunate, my actions brough me up to
Just know there's other people like me and stuck in this
of mind, the blind meetin the blind
Everybody get they information the grapevine
We could make it but niggaz hate tryin
I own the cops, I'm 'bout to witness a hate
They time, according to what the jakes find
Hustlin is like, grapes tryin to make wine
I'm tryin to bake a whole lotta and break mine
I'm on the block, cops come, hit the gate time
Hop in the truck, and we hit the flyin
I try to stop but the hustler in me dyin

And Ma$e even said he bought a drop to on
But Ma$e ain't even go, that's a oxy
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, back, no healthcare
Wife on wellfare, they you to put yourself there
So we slang 'caine, gangbang, sane
If it's even possible, a nigga gotta
We put little bags of rocks in the of children
And conceal them while standing by abandon buildings
The we get, the broker the hood
Tyson is but Oprah is good
Touching the fo-fo, clutching it so so
I don't wanna have to no more, right