Luyện nghe bài hát Parole

[Intro: Immortal (parole officer)]
(980505A) nigga what
(You made parole)
(Pack your stuff) The
(And get the out of here) A-haha
Aiyyo man, it's about 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 never back again
Never selling heroin, selling crack again
Don't work for the government packagin
Don't indiscriminate, with the mac again
My people are stuck glass like a mannequin
They pretend to give a fuck, like the Vatican
Second chance, based, two-faced Samaritans
Every time we come back, they... [record
I'm out of jail, and I'm never going again
Never heroin, never selling crack again
I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back
I'm out of, I'm out of (I'm out motherfucker!)

Yeah, I'm out of jail, and I'm never going again
Never selling heroin, selling crack again
work for the government coke packagin
Don't fire indiscriminate, with the mac
My people are stuck glass like a mannequin
They pretend to a fuck, just like the Vatican
Second chance, based, two-faced Samaritans
time we come back, they keep on cashin in
Prison labor, sweatshop comparisons
we kidnap the whole fuckin garrison
Yeah, poverty, makes people do, things
But corporations do worse to protect bling
are more, overcrowded than the rap game
They say you more 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 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 Teddy Roosevelt's Riders
My movement's like a kata
I graduated outta prison, so 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
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 that you find 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 saccharin
Jailhouse snitches without corroborating
sellin niggaz 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
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
my own life around, fuck the establishment
Listenin to like "Where the fuck the talent went?"
How the fuck did you replace, lyrics with swaggerin?
fix that, rhymin on with the mag-a-num
I roll up in a caravan, full of North
My squad got, more soldier niggaz the Saracens
Cause just watch (watch!) when the terrorists attack
Their reaction's gonna be draft 'em and send us again

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