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 chronic 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 that sticky weed! Get it in a swisher,
Pass it to my nigga. Mothafucka better pick up a gun, you prepare
Got my closed, let the smoke go everywhere
45 on the freeway, nigga le-way
Higher a kite while I'm rollin through the alley
Pass me a black and white, But that's my boy cause me and his 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 little bitty nigga was sellin the rocks on the Clair
And the is here...and he wants your 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 'cause I'm well, well..
I sold out!
I can do what I wanna. My baby 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 be the Dope Man. And that nigga sold crack
And crack man...humiliation to the black man, man...
My momma smoke weed, my smoke weed
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 dail for my nigga "0-9-9"
for the chron, nigga, don't let the cops come
'cause I'll be runnin wit mine, like we got
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! do shit. Got thangs 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! 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, blessed in the 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 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.
Windows was tinted. It's me and it's Sizzler-crush grass.
it finished, we puffed puffed and pass (give it back!)
And Im still on point, I got my mind on the glass
"Ey, why the fuck you not driving fast? up, I got ass-to-mash.
And I'm there.