Luyện nghe bài hát Sticky Icky

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

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

1:
OOH WEE! Nigga got that sticky weed! Get it in a swisher,
Pass it to my nigga. Mothafucka better pick up a gun, you better
Got my closed, let the smoke go everywhere
45 on the freeway, gimme le-way
Higher then a kite while I'm rollin the alley
Pass me a black and white, But that's my boy me and his kids is tight
And the weed is lime-green, betta catch it from a chronic
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 sellin the rocks on the
And the devil is here...and he wants your soul. To rot his in hell, hell...
again 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 sold out!
I can do what I wanna. My baby momma want money. I 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, like I get on bracklin'
And be the Dope Man. And that nigga sold crack
And crack man...humiliation to the man, black man...
My smoke weed, my daddy smoke weed
Hell, we all weed...
So I'm my fun, so give me what me need, baaby
I like ta got up in "High Times", I even dail for my nigga "0-9-9"
Dail for the chron, nigga, let the cops come
I'll be runnin wit mine, like we got rock
Feelin fine, and my heart's 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 really got kids and bills, wit the crew
pay them nigga, you already knew-baby baller I call all my trues
"How it relate to weed?" "Fuck the weed! Relate to me. The real nigga with the T.H.C.
And no G.H.B...these are the last days. 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 time to let the weed
Watch for the with STD sores, blessed in the rythm I got to get soar
And full of adrenaline...in your...mellinium...full of my
be in the back 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 ya bidness there, yellow man."
Man fuck you nigga! Young nigga to the hood, dawg. I got the 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 Sizzler-crush grass.
'Til it finished, we puffed and pass (give it back!)
And Im still on point, I got my on the hour glass
"Ey, why the fuck you not fast? Hurry up, I got ass-to-mash.
And I'm there.