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 that sticky-icky...blue chronic for yo shizzle nizzle...
In yo' grizzle. fo'sheezaayy...
I got that sticky-icky...blue 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 go everywhere
45 on the freeway, gimme le-way
then a kite while I'm rollin through the alley
Pass me a black and white, But that's my boy cause me and his kids is
And the weed is lime-green, betta catch it a chronic seed
And it was me...oh yeah. I can't wait 'til this shit's in the air
everywhere...
I hail...a little bitty that was sellin 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 leave it alone 'cause I'm well, well..
I sold out!
I can do what I wanna. My baby momma money. I never hold out!
Hey, bitch up. And try to leave me all thawed-ed 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 be the Dope Man. And that nigga sold crack
And crack man...humiliation to the black man, 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, let the cops come
'cause I'll be wit mine, like we got rock
Feelin fine, and my already runnin
I get the drama and 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
I'ma pay them nigga, you already knew-baby 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 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 full of adrenaline...in your...mellinium...full of my
I'll be in the back wit titenium..."damn, the shit I'm smokin'"
Weed got a 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 finna stop me, dawg...
"What's the dreads? You might be wanting to mind ya bidness there, yellow man."
Man fuck you nigga! Young to the hood, dawg. I got the weed and I'ma break the bread, yeah...uh...
On the freeway coasting like we was riding a limo. that.
was tinted. It's me and it's like Sizzler-crush grass.
'Til it finished, we puffed and pass (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.