Luyện nghe bài hát Sticky Icky

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

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

1:
OOH WEE! Nigga got good sticky weed! Get it in a swisher,
Pass it to my nigga. better pick up a gun, you better prepare
Got my eyes closed, let the smoke go
45 on the freeway, gimme le-way
Higher a kite while I'm rollin through the alley
me a black and white, But that's my boy cause me and his kids is tight
And the weed is lime-green, betta catch it a chronic seed
And it was callin me...oh yeah. I wait 'til this shit's in the air
everywhere...
I hail...a little bitty nigga that was sellin the on the Clair
And the devil is here...and he wants soul. To rot with his in hell, hell...
Then they could put a nigga in jail...when I'm just tryna get by
But I use to sell...and now I leave it alone I'm doin well, well..
I never out!
I can do what I wanna. My momma want money. I never hold out!
Hey, bitch hold up. And try to leave me all out
Man, be fucked up. No doubt! I'm blowin up...

2:
Rap and the crack, and the dice, like I get on bracklin'
And it'll be the Man. And that nigga sold crack
And man...humiliation to the black man, black man...
My momma smoke weed, my daddy smoke
Hell, we all weed...
So I'm havin my fun, so give me what me need,
I ta got up in "High Times", I even gotta dail for my nigga "0-9-9"
Dail for the chron, nigga, don't let the cops
'cause I'll be wit mine, like we got rock
fine, and my heart's 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! Gotta do shit. Got to do
A nigga really got and bills, wit the crew
I'ma pay them nigga, you already knew-baby baller I call all my
"How does it relate to weed?" "Fuck the weed! 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 ready for the war...still got to let the weed cure
Watch for the women 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 wit titenium..."damn, that's 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 niggaz, I'm in love. Ain't nobody finna stop me, dawg...
"What's with the dreads? You might be wanting to mind ya bidness there, man."
Man fuck you nigga! Young nigga to the hood, dawg. I got the weed and I'ma the bread, yeah...uh...
On the freeway coasting we was riding a limo. Fuck that.
Windows was tinted. It's me and like Sizzler-crush grass.
'Til it finished, we puffed puffed and (give it back!)
And Im still on point, I got my mind on the hour
"Ey, why the you not driving fast? Hurry up, I got ass-to-mash.
And I'm there.