Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

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

The waits for no one
I've been it from Ewings to Buicks, to body viewings
Car to court cases, to fly vacations
From wanting it all, to the object of your admiration
Imagination is they lack
It stops niggaz gettin' stacks
Feelin' trapped on the with loose cracks
Wisdom is vital for the survival of the street's

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

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

They took Will, let me describe him, a one
I that he was the true 'God's Son', not Jesus, but fearless
His ear was up on them sounds too, he'd hear
Not to his likin', and say, "Son they you"
He got to see my debut, wild-mannered
But wild with them hammers, niggaz couldn't stand 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 born
Starring out, a disciple
You had that in your eye
Disciple of the
From the day you born
Disciple
Yeah, of the projects

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 killer
1991, son, fronts on the facial, gun buck by the naval
Disciple could blaze you, we it with embalming fluid
Rhymin' to music all time
Fightin' 'bout how and Rakim would do it

impossible 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
policemen, plush leathers, I need them, riskin' my freedom
Burners in bubble coats, a sermon from the neighborhood pope
He's sexing ho's, old fart, he's ones when he stroke
Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, young stretch mark
Babies born in a cycle, disciples

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