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 gonna holla at yo boy I told you
what the truth was

I a time when we can stop hustlin
A dozen cops while we on the blocks smugglin
And little gray stones is so addictive
even paid with they homes, is some sick shit
But in the hood, you either known them or you bail out of county
Shit, you either own them, or you them for a bounty
Some 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 real loaded up, my clip slaughter jerks
No to walk, you lucky if the water works
As I on, I start to see the law love it
The hood's and I'm partially the cause of it
few get to start in this game
It's the trey payin for profit, it's hard 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 a lotta bricks, screwed a lotta chicks
Viewed a lotta whips. sick of hustlin*
I break a rules, I shake a lotta fools
I a lotta dues. *I'm sick of hustlin*

I'm sick of hustlin, I had enough enough of
the bricks, the cops, they try to cuff me quick
And throw your face in the mud, why is you sick
Before I go to jail, I'ma up the fifth
so unfortunate, my actions brough me up to this
Just know there's other people like me and they in this
of mind, the blind meetin the blind
Everybody get they from the grapevine
We could make it but niggaz hate tryin
I own the cops, I'm 'bout to witness a crime
make 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, 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$e even said he bought a to tour on
But Ma$e ain't go, that's a oxy moron
Bullets penetrate the of the innocent
Half the brock runners, strip they ever get is in
My nigga Heron, he to fight in Iraq
He get right back and to fight blacks
So you go elsewhere, come back, no healthcare
Wife on wellfare, they tell you to put there
So we 'caine, gangbang, remain sane
If it's even possible, a gotta maintain
We put little bags of rocks in the hands of
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, clutching it so so
I wanna have to hustle no more, right