Luyện nghe bài hát Sick Of Hustlin

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

I a time when we can stop hustlin
A dozen while we on the blocks rock smugglin
And these little gray is so addictive
Niggaz paid 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 like Kukoc
All this income, and still the starvin
No monopoly, upscale gardens, not Marvin
The hood's real loaded up, my clip slaughter
No boards to walk, you lucky if the water
As I move on, I start to see the law it
The broken and I'm partially the cause of it
few get to start in this game
It's like the payin for profit, it's hard to explain

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

I'm sick of hustlin, I had enough of this
Stuffin the bricks, the cops, try to cuff me quick
And throw your in the mud, why is you fuckers sick
Before I go to jail, I'ma up the fifth
It's so unfortunate, my actions brough me up to
Just know there's people like me and they stuck in this
State of mind, the meetin the blind
Everybody get they information the grapevine
We make it but niggaz just hate tryin
I own the cops, I'm 'bout to witness a crime
They make time, according to what the find
Hustlin is like, squeezing tryin to make wine
I'm tryin to bake a whole lotta bread and mine
I'm on the block, cops come, hit the gate 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 even go, that's a oxy
penetrate the chest of the innocent
Half the brock runners, only strip they get is in
My nigga Heron, he to fight in Iraq
He get right back and to fight blacks
So you could go elsewhere, back, no healthcare
Wife on wellfare, they tell you to put yourself
So we slang 'caine, gangbang, remain
If even possible, a nigga gotta maintain
We put little bags of in the hands of children
And conceal them while they're standing by 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 to hustle no more, right