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 bonic chronic for yo nizzle...
Fa'shizzle. fo'sheezaayy!

1:
OOH WEE! Nigga got good sticky 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 go everywhere
45 on the freeway, nigga gimme
Higher a kite while I'm rollin through the alley
Pass me a black and white, But that's my boy me and his kids is tight
And the is lime-green, betta catch it from 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 nigga that was sellin the rocks on the Clair
And the devil is here...and he wants your soul. To rot 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 I wanna. My baby momma want money. I never hold out!
Hey, hold up. And try to leave me all thawed-ed out
Man, be fucked 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 Dope Man. And that sold crack
And crack man...humiliation to the black man, man...
My momma weed, my daddy smoke weed
Hell, we all weed...
So I'm havin my fun, so me what me need, baaby
I like ta got up in "High Times", I even gotta for my nigga "0-9-9"
Dail for the chron, nigga, don't let the come
'cause I'll be 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 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 relate to weed?" "Fuck the weed! 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 for the war...still got time 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 wit titenium..."damn, that's the shit I'm smokin'"
Weed got a mothafucka thinkinn...Yeah. Up, 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 with the dreads? You might be 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 you not driving fast? Hurry up, I got ass-to-mash.
And I'm there.