Luyện nghe bài hát Hustlers

Dre, he a O.G
Nas, he a QB-QB G
Do the

Way The Firm, like back in the day
Nas was the first New nigga rappin' with Dre
So of course I got a track to bring it to your face
The one kid that would've been that got away
But we get together like every several years
To sprinkle, a little bit of Heaven for ears
sippin' Cliquot in Rio, stupid fuckers
Low-key, G's, but it's still Gucci luggage
I Cape Cod, and watching fly bitches with grey eyes
in a tub of KY to get my day by
I to celebrate, why? - cause I can vision
Collages and images of my lies with no regret to
So every breath I take, is all about the
It's hard for you to like you at high altitude
So crack the Patron, it's on heathens, The God's
Hard body, Mr. never leaving

Hustlers, dealers, drop-top
Make cake, cop two five fivers
Pimps and players, diamonds
to West Coast we riders
Hustlers, dealers, riders
Make that cake, cop two five
Pimps and players, platinum
East to Coast we riders

He a O.G
(Mix that with a QB-QB G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto
(West kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots
He a O.G
(Mix that with a QB-QB G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some different blocks
(West Coast the tracks) East Coast gunshots

1995, eleven years the day
I'm in the shop with choices to make
"Illmatic" on the top shelf, "The Chronic" on the left
cop both but only got a twenty on me
So fuck it, I stole both, spent the twenty on a dub
the package off "Illmatic" and bumped that
For my niggas it was too when Nas rhymed
I was the Compton nigga with a "New York State of Mind"
Inside the house bottlin' up sherm, bangin' The Firm
Dre was king so I waited my turn
Fast forward, now I'm makin 'em
Ended my careers, hollered at Nas, a hard lesson was learned"
So I reconciled my differences he did with Jigga
I stopped with niggas, cause I'm "Ether" to niggas
Comb the 'til there's no one left
"If I Ruled the World" I summons all you weak rap niggas to

He a O.G
(Mix that with a true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto
(West kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots

Yo, the sportin'
Come off the dice game with a walking, you a walking coffin'
The musket I tucked it, you bluff it I it
You're sideways talking, so I lay
I wait patient, to duct hatin'
ass niggas, get bucked ass niggas
Pluck ashes - of Cuban cigars, you fooling Nas
my name and I came with Rugers this time
And if I'm sane that "Soul Plane" the bomb
Word to my name tattooed to my arm
You revolve me, embalm me, calm me or harm me
Rob me or dodge these I'm busting
See that's malarky you
I open up the tripod to put the gatling on, and I start
man, from bagging grams and running from cops
To a on the hand, a mill' on the watch, I'm fucking with Doc

Hustlers, dealers, riders
Make that cake, cop two five
Pimps and players, diamonds
to West Coast we ridin'
Hustlers, dealers, riders
Make cake, cop two five fivers
Pimps and players, diamonds
East to Coast we ridin'