Luyện nghe bài hát Sick Of Hustlin

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

I visualize a when we can stop hustlin
A dozen cops while we on the blocks smugglin
And these little gray stones is so
Niggaz even paid with they homes, is some sick
But in the hood, you either known them or you them out of county
Shit, you own them, or you sell them for a bounty
even do both
Or crook it up too, shit all like Kukoc
All this income, and still the block
No monopoly, it's gardens, not Marvin
The hood's 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 broken 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 gotta clown. *I'm sick of hustlin*
I moved a weight, through a lot of states
I could die today. *I'm sick of
I a lotta bricks, screwed a lotta chicks
Viewed a lotta whips. *I'm sick of
I break a lotta rules, I shake a fools
I paid a lotta dues. *I'm sick of

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, I'ma up the fifth
It's so unfortunate, my brough me up to this
Just know there's people like me and they stuck in this
State of mind, the meetin the blind
get they information from the grapevine
We could it but niggaz just hate tryin
I own the cops, I'm 'bout to witness a crime
They time, according to what the jakes find
Hustlin is like, squeezing grapes to make wine
I'm tryin to bake a whole lotta bread and break
I'm on the block, cops come, it's hit the time
Hop in the truck, and we hit the interstate
I try to but the hustler in me ain't dyin

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