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

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

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

1995, years from the day
I'm in the record shop choices to make
"Illmatic" on the top shelf, "The Chronic" on the homie
Wanna cop but only got a twenty on me
So it, I stole both, spent the twenty on a dub sack
Ripped the 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 dope house up sherm, bangin' The Firm
Dre was king then so I my turn
forward, now I'm makin 'em burn
Ended my peers careers, hollered at Nas, a lesson was learned"
So I my differences like he did with Jigga
I stopped beefin' with niggas, I'm "Ether" to niggas
the earth 'til there's no one left
"If I Ruled the World" I all you weak rap niggas to death

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

Yo, the Jordans
Come off the dice game with a fortune walking, you a walking
The musket I tucked it, you it I bust it
You're talking, so I lay often
I patient, to duct tape hatin'
ass niggas, get bucked ass niggas
Pluck ashes - of cigars, you fooling with Nas
That's my name and I with Rugers this time
And if I'm that "Soul Plane" movie's the bomb
Word to my mom's name to my arm
You can't revolve me, embalm me, calm me or me
Rob me or dodge these I'm busting
See malarky you yappin'
I open up the tripod to put the gatling on, and I clapping
Nasty man, from grams and running from cops
To a mill' on the hand, a on the watch, I'm fucking with Doc

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