Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

You was born in the eighties, pops drove a
Did a bid, comin' to some grown ass kid
baby, turn to young thug, description might fit you,
Look around it might hit you, no joke, I pistol fight with you
Shit comes faster than you think
Blood and white chalk makes pink, so what's make you?
Become a creature of habitat, the cat
see where it's at, or where it's goin'

The hood for no one
I've through it from Ewings to Buicks, to body viewings
Car chases to cases, to fly vacations
wanting it all, to being the object of your admiration
Imagination is what lack
It stops niggaz gettin' stacks
Feelin' trapped on the block with cracks
Wisdom is vital for the of the street's disciple

From the day you were
Starring out, a young
You had that in your eye
of the projects
From the day you were
Street's
Yeah, disciple of the

Moonstruck stuck, slow as in my actions
That's compliments of a fast spliff in the night
In my flight jacket, heightened, mimickin' Tyson
After watchin' him cut up Ruddock
In the gutter, which was once ghetto prophecy is now scripture
Lookin' back at it, blow from pretty crack addicts
Older Gods wantin' no static, told some lil' niggaz can have it
Coke baggin' and

They took Will, let me him, a live one
I think that he was the true Son', not Jesus, but fearless
His ear was up on them sounds too, he'd hear
Not to his likin', and say, "Son bitin' you"
He never got to see my debut,
But wild with them hammers, niggaz couldn't stand it
him off the planet, left us in 9-2
With the philosophy of arms do, a true street's disciple

From the day you born
Starring out, a disciple
You had that in your eye
Disciple of the
From the day you were
Disciple
Yeah, disciple of the

Plug the mics up, I'm to rock, knockin
Reminiscing of measuring of Pyrex, cook in the kitchen
Hook to these infants, it's like my folks is still on the benches
Surrounded by villains and henchmen, was a convention
1991, son, gold fronts on the facial, gun buck by the
could blaze you, we laced it with embalming fluid
Rhymin' to music all this
'bout how Kane and Rakim would do it

Seemed to us that we could ever leave
From the block, the world was forever freezin'
Hell, if I let them shovel me, son, in this cell again, fuck these
Devil policemen, plush leathers, I need them, my freedom
Burners in bubble coats, fuck a from the neighborhood pope
He's ho's, old fart, he's busting ones when he stroke
Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, young stretch bellies
Babies born in a cycle, disciples

the day you were born
Starring out, a young
You had that gleam in eye
of the projects
From the day you born
Street's
Yeah, disciple of the