Luyện nghe bài hát Parole

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

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

[Interlude: Immortal (woman)]
(Hello?) Yeah yeah, up yo?
(Hey, how you doin?) Yo, you what?
I got my papers (you're fuckin lying!)
Yo I'm comin home to you, I'll see you in 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 blue thing on for me, aight?
(You got baby, yeah!)

Technique]
I'm on parole, and I'll never be again
Fuck this baby, I'm comin home again
Shorty wrapped around me so I'll, be cold again
Never to knock a nigga out, for the phone again
Prison ain't the place that you find your rite of in
It's slavery, nasty food in your abdomen
passage, bottom of the ship, how they pack 'em in
Perpetrators on fake shit, sweeter than saccharin
Jailhouse snitches without corroborating
Niggaz sellin out for true to be, Benjamins
But now I'm free, hit the block, Entenmann's
Benihana in and out, to eat to enter in
Newspaper pencillin, tryin to pay the again
Ex-con job interview, answerin
Feelin from the frustation I got pent up in
But not to go back to the place, I was sent up in
Turn my own life around, fuck the
Listenin to hip-hop "Where the fuck the talent went?"
How the fuck did you replace, lyrics with your
fix that, rhymin on with the mag-a-num
I up in a caravan, full of North Africans
My got, more soldier niggaz than the Saracens
Cause just watch (watch!) when the attack again
Their reaction's gonna be draft 'em and us back again

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