Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

You was born in the eighties, pops drove a
Did a bid, comin' home to some ass kid
Crack baby, to young thug, description might fit you,
around it might hit you, no joke, I wanna pistol fight with you
Shit around faster than you think
Blood and chalk makes pink, so what's that make you?
a creature of habitat, the average cat
Won't see it's at, or where it's goin'

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

From the day you born
out, a young disciple
You had that gleam in eye
of the projects
From the day you born
disciple
Yeah, of the projects

stuck, slow as molasses in my actions
That's compliments of a fast spliff in the life
In my flight jacket, adrenaline heightened, Tyson
After watchin' him cut up Ruddock
In the gutter, was once ghetto prophecy is now ghetto scripture
back at it, blow jobs from pretty crack addicts
Older Gods wantin' no static, told some lil' they can have it
baggin' and toe-taggin'

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

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

the mics up, I'm ready to rock, knockin
Reminiscing of measuring pots of Pyrex, cook in the
Captain Hook to these infants, 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
Disciple could you, we laced it with embalming fluid
to music all this time
Fightin' 'bout how Kane and would do it

Seemed impossible to us that we could leave
From the block, where the 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, a sermon from the neighborhood pope
He's sexing ho's, old fart, he's busting ones when he
Multi-colored Pelle's, young stretch mark bellies
born in a cycle, future disciples

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