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)
Aiyyo man, it's 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 going back again
selling heroin, never selling crack again
Don't work for the government coke
Don't fire indiscriminate, with the mac
My people are stuck glass like a mannequin
pretend to give a fuck, just like the Vatican
Second chance, faith based, two-faced
Every we come back, they... [record rewinds]
I'm out of jail, and I'm going back again
Never selling heroin, never 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
Never selling heroin, never selling again
work for the government coke packagin
Don't fire indiscriminate, with the mac
My are stuck behind glass like a mannequin
They pretend to give a fuck, just like the
Second chance, based, two-faced Samaritans
Every time we back, they keep on cashin in
labor, third-world sweatshop comparisons
'til we kidnap the whole fuckin
Yeah, poverty, makes people do, reckless
But corporations do worse to 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 fuck Phonics, little niggaz is (Hooked On)
But if you on stage the DEA, as your 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, they 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 FUCK my alma mater

[Interlude: Technique (woman)]
(Hello?) yeah, what's up yo?
(Hey, how you doin?) Yo, you what?
I just got my papers (you're lying!)
Yo I'm home to you, I'll 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 comin (oh my God!)
Put the little blue on for me, aight?
(You got baby, yeah!)

[Immortal
I'm on parole, and I'll never be alone
Fuck place baby, I'm comin home again
Shorty wrapped around me so I'll, never be cold
Never have to knock a out, for the phone again
Prison the place that you find your rite of passage 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 without corroborating evidence
Niggaz sellin niggaz out for to be, Benjamins
But now I'm free, hit the block, eatin
Benihana in and out, flow to eat to in
pencillin, tryin to pay the rent again
Ex-con job interview, answerin
Feelin violent from the I got pent up in
But not tryin to go 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 roll up in a caravan, of North Africans
My squad got, more niggaz than the Saracens
Cause just watch (watch!) 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
this place baby, I'm comin home again
Shorty wrapped me so I'll, never 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 pack 'em in
Perpetrators on some fake shit, sweeter saccharin
I'm on