Luyện nghe bài hát Sticky Icky

I got sticky-icky... (3 x's)
I got sticky-icky...blue bonic shizzle for yo grizzle nizzle...
Fa'shizzle. fo'sheezaayy!

[I got that sticky-icky...blue bonic chronic for yo nizzle...
In yo' grizzle. fo'sheezaayy...
I got sticky-icky...blue bonic chronic for yo grizzle nizzle...
Fa'shizzle. fo'sheezaayy!

1:
OOH WEE! Nigga got that sticky weed! Get it in a swisher,
it to my nigga. Mothafucka better pick up a gun, you better prepare
Got my eyes closed, let the smoke go
45 on the freeway, nigga gimme
Higher then a while I'm rollin through the alley
Pass me a black and white, But that's my boy cause me and his is tight
And the weed is lime-green, betta it from a chronic seed
And it was callin me...oh yeah. I can't 'til this shit's in the air
everywhere...
I hail...a little bitty nigga that was the rocks on the Clair
And the devil is here...and he your soul. To rot with his in hell, hell...
Then again they could put a nigga in jail...when I'm tryna get by
But I use to sell...and now I it alone 'cause I'm doin well, well..
I sold out!
I can do what I wanna. My baby want money. I never hold out!
Hey, bitch hold up. And try to leave me all out
Man, I'ma be fucked up. No doubt! I'm up...

2:
Rap and the crack, and the dice, when I get on bracklin'
And it'll be the Dope Man. And that nigga crack
And crack man...humiliation to the man, black man...
My momma smoke weed, my daddy weed
Hell, we all weed...
So I'm havin my fun, so give me what me need,
I like ta got up in "High Times", I even dail for my nigga "0-9-9"
Dail for the chron, nigga, don't let the come
'cause I'll be runnin wit mine, we got rock
Feelin fine, and my already runnin
I get the and it's steady comin, a c'mon...
(Inhales) "What you do?" "It's on you, wayy...all day everyday" hey...
Fuck! do shit. Got thangs to do
A nigga really got and bills, wit the crew
I'ma pay nigga, you already knew-baby baller I call all my trues
"How does it to weed?" "Fuck the weed! Relate to me. The real nigga with the T.H.C.
And no G.H.B...these are the days. Roll me a sweet! A-c'mon! A-c'mon!

I'm up... (8 x's)
(Chronic, chronic, chronic...)

3:
I'm for the war...still got time to let the weed cure
Watch for the with STD sores, blessed in the rythm I got to get soar
And of adrenaline...in your...mellinium...full of my drink
I'll be in the back wit titenium..."damn, the shit I'm smokin'"
Weed got a mothafucka thinkinn...Yeah. Up, jumped in the cab and rushed, but B cant catch the bus. I'm goin to see my broad. And fuck y'all niggaz, I'm in love. Ain't nobody stop me, dawg...
"What's with the dreads? You might be wanting to ya bidness there, yellow man."
Man fuck you nigga! nigga to the hood, dawg. I got the weed and I'ma break the bread, yeah...uh...
On the freeway coasting we was riding a limo. Fuck that.
Windows was tinted. It's me and it's like grass.
'Til it finished, we puffed and pass (give it back!)
And Im still on point, I got my mind on the glass
"Ey, why the fuck you not driving Hurry up, I got ass-to-mash.
And I'm there.