Luyện nghe bài hát Parole

[Intro: Technique (parole officer)]
(980505A) nigga what
(You made parole)
(Pack your stuff) The
(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!

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

[Interlude: Technique (woman)]
(Hello?) Yeah yeah, up yo?
(Hey, how you doin?) Yo, you know
I just got my (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 serious baby, I'm home (oh my God!)
Put the little blue on for me, aight?
(You got baby, yeah!)

[Immortal
I'm on parole, and never be alone again
Fuck this place baby, I'm comin again
wrapped around me so I'll, never be cold again
Never have to a nigga out, for the phone again
Prison ain't the place that you your rite of passage in
It's slavery, with nasty food in your
Middle passage, bottom of the ship, how pack 'em in
Perpetrators on fake shit, sweeter than saccharin
Jailhouse snitches without corroborating
Niggaz sellin niggaz out for true to be,
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 tryin to go to the place, I was sent up in
Turn my own around, fuck the establishment
Listenin to hip-hop like "Where the the talent went?"
How the fuck did you replace, lyrics with your
I'ma fix that, rhymin on the mag-a-num
I up in a caravan, full of North Africans
My got, more soldier niggaz than the Saracens
Cause just (watch!) when the terrorists attack again
Their reaction's be draft 'em and send us back again

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