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 bonic chronic for yo 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 good weed! Get it in a swisher,
Pass it to my nigga. Mothafucka better pick up a gun, you prepare
Got my eyes closed, let the go everywhere
45 on the freeway, nigga gimme
Higher then a kite while I'm rollin the alley
Pass me a black and white, But my boy cause 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 wait 'til shit's in the air
everywhere...
I hail...a little bitty nigga that was sellin the on the Clair
And the is here...and he wants 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 never out!
I can do what I wanna. My momma want money. I never hold out!
Hey, bitch up. And try to leave me all thawed-ed out
Man, I'ma be up. No doubt! I'm blowin up...

2:
Rap and the crack, and the dice, like when I get on
And it'll be the Man. And that nigga sold 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 gotta dail for my "0-9-9"
for the chron, nigga, don't let the cops come
'cause I'll be runnin wit mine, 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 kids and bills, wit the
I'ma pay them nigga, you already knew-baby baller I call all my
"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
for the women with 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, that's the I'm smokin'"
Weed got a mothafucka thinkinn...Yeah. Up, jumped in the cab and rushed, but B cant catch the bus. I'm to see my broad. And fuck y'all niggaz, I'm in love. Ain't nobody finna stop me, dawg...
"What's with the You might be wanting to mind 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 coasting like we was riding a limo. Fuck that.
Windows was tinted. It's me and it's like grass.
it finished, we puffed puffed and pass (give it back!)
And Im still on point, I got my mind on the hour
"Ey, why the fuck you not driving Hurry up, I got ass-to-mash.
And I'm there.