Luyện nghe bài hát Hustlers

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yo, the sportin'
Come off the dice game with a walking, you a walking coffin'
The musket I it, you bluff it I bust it
You're talking, so I lay often
I wait patient, to tape hatin'
Fuck ass niggas, get ass niggas
Pluck ashes - of Cuban cigars, you fooling Nas
That's my name and I came with this time
And if I'm that "Soul Plane" movie's the bomb
to my mom's name tattooed to my arm
You can't revolve me, embalm me, me or harm me
Rob me or these bullets I'm busting
See that's malarky you
I open up the tripod to put the gatling on, and I clapping
Nasty man, from bagging and running from cops
To a mill' on the hand, a on the watch, I'm fucking with Doc

Hustlers, dealers, drop-top
Make that cake, cop two five
Pimps and players, diamonds
East to West we ridin'
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top
Make that cake, cop two five
Pimps and players, diamonds
East to West we ridin'