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 bonic 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 that good weed! Get it in a swisher,
Pass it to my nigga. Mothafucka pick up a gun, you better prepare
Got my eyes closed, let the smoke go
45 on the freeway, nigga le-way
Higher a kite while I'm rollin through the alley
me a black and white, But that's my boy cause me and his kids is tight
And the weed is lime-green, betta catch it from a chronic
And it was me...oh yeah. I can't wait 'til this shit's in the air
everywhere...
I hail...a little bitty nigga was sellin the rocks on the Clair
And the devil is here...and he wants 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 I'm doin well, well..
I never out!
I can do what I wanna. My baby momma money. I never hold out!
Hey, bitch hold up. And try to leave me all out
Man, I'ma be up. No doubt! I'm blowin up...

2:
Rap and the crack, and the dice, when I get on bracklin'
And it'll be the Dope Man. And that nigga sold
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 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 be runnin 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! do shit. Got thangs to do
A really got kids 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 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 ready for the war...still got to let the weed cure
for the women with STD sores, blessed 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 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 wanting to mind ya bidness there, man."
Man fuck you nigga! Young 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.
was tinted. It's me and it's like Sizzler-crush grass.
'Til it finished, we puffed puffed and (give it back!)
And Im still on point, I got my mind on the hour
"Ey, why the fuck you not fast? Hurry up, I got ass-to-mash.
And I'm there.