Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

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

The waits 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 the object of your admiration
Imagination is they lack
It niggaz from gettin' stacks
Feelin' trapped on the with loose cracks
Wisdom is vital for the survival of the street's

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

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

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

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

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

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

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