Luyện nghe bài hát Parole

[Intro: Technique (parole officer)]
(980505A) Yeah what
(You made parole)
(Pack stuff) The fuck?
(And get the fuck out of here)
man, it's about motherfuckin time man
Aiyyo G, G son, I got my papers man
I'm out motherfucker!

[Immortal
Yeah, I'm out of jail, and I'm never back again
Never selling heroin, never selling crack
work for the government coke packagin
Don't fire indiscriminate, the mac again
My people are stuck behind glass like a
They pretend to give a fuck, just like the
Second chance, based, two-faced Samaritans
Every time we back, they... [record rewinds]
I'm out of jail, and I'm never going again
Never selling heroin, never selling again
I'm out of jail, and I'm never going again
I'm out of, I'm out of (I'm out motherfucker!)

Yeah, I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back
selling heroin, never selling crack again
Don't work for the coke packagin
Don't fire indiscriminate, with the mac
My people are stuck behind glass a mannequin
They pretend to give a fuck, like the Vatican
Second chance, faith based, two-faced
Every we come back, they keep on cashin in
Prison labor, sweatshop comparisons
'til we kidnap the whole garrison
Yeah, poverty, makes people do, reckless
But do worse to protect they bling
Prisons are more, than the rap game
They say you likely to go to jail with a black name
Freakonomics that I speak ebonics
and fuck Phonics, little is (Hooked On) chronic
But if you on stage with the DEA, as hype man
Don't get yourself up, and blame the white man
We transformed and criminal enterprises
O.G.'s as advisors
Before they, send us to war, after they us
But I let 'em use us like Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders
My movement's like a jujitsu
I outta prison, so FUCK my alma mater nigga

[Interlude: Immortal (woman)]
(Hello?) yeah, what's up yo?
(Hey, how you doin?) Yo, you know
I got my papers (you're fuckin lying!)
Yo I'm comin home to you, see you in like a day and a half
([screams] Oh my God, I'm so happy! Are you serious?)
([screams] I'm so happy! Are you serious?)
Yeah, I'm dead baby, I'm comin home (oh my God!)
Put the little blue on for me, aight?
(You got baby, yeah!)

Technique]
I'm on parole, and never be alone again
Fuck place baby, I'm comin home again
Shorty wrapped around me so I'll, never be cold
Never have to knock a nigga out, for the phone
Prison the place that you find your rite of passage in
It's slavery, with nasty in your abdomen
Middle passage, bottom of the ship, how they 'em in
Perpetrators on some fake shit, sweeter than
Jailhouse without corroborating evidence
Niggaz sellin niggaz out for to be, Benjamins
But now I'm free, hit the block, eatin
Benihana in and out, to eat to enter in
Newspaper pencillin, tryin to pay the again
job interview, nobody answerin
Feelin from the frustation I got pent up in
But not tryin to go to the place, I was sent up in
Turn my own life around, the establishment
Listenin to hip-hop like "Where the the talent went?"
How the fuck did you replace, lyrics with swaggerin?
fix that, rhymin on with the mag-a-num
I up in a caravan, full of North Africans
My squad got, more soldier niggaz than the
Cause just watch (watch!) when the terrorists attack
Their reaction's gonna be 'em and send us back again

I'm on parole, and never be alone again
Fuck this place baby, I'm home again
Shorty wrapped around me so I'll, never be cold
Never have to knock a nigga out, for the phone
Prison ain't the that you find your rite of passage in
slavery, with nasty food in your abdomen
Middle passage, of the ship, how they pack 'em in
Perpetrators on some shit, sweeter than saccharin
I'm on