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 for yo grizzle nizzle...
Fa'shizzle. fo'sheezaayy!

1:
OOH WEE! Nigga got that good 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, nigga le-way
Higher then a kite I'm rollin through the alley
Pass me a and white, But that's my boy cause me and his kids is tight
And the weed is lime-green, betta it from a chronic seed
And it was callin me...oh yeah. I wait 'til this shit's in the air
everywhere...
I hail...a bitty nigga that was sellin the rocks on the Clair
And the devil is here...and he wants soul. To rot with his in hell, hell...
Then again they could put a in jail...when I'm just tryna get by
But I use to sell...and now I leave it 'cause I'm doin well, well..
I sold out!
I can do what I wanna. My momma want money. I never hold out!
Hey, hold 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 I get on bracklin'
And it'll be the Dope Man. And nigga sold crack
And crack man...humiliation to the man, black man...
My momma smoke weed, my daddy smoke
Hell, we all weed...
So I'm havin my fun, so give me me need, baaby
I like ta got up in "High Times", I even gotta dail for my "0-9-9"
Dail for the chron, nigga, don't let the cops
'cause I'll be runnin wit mine, like we got
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
pay them nigga, you already knew-baby baller I call all my trues
"How does it relate to weed?" "Fuck the weed! Relate to me. The real nigga 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 women with STD sores, 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, 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 goin to see my broad. And fuck y'all niggaz, I'm in love. Ain't 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 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 on the hour glass
"Ey, why the fuck you not fast? Hurry up, I got ass-to-mash.
And I'm there.