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, 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?
Become a creature of habitat, the cat
see where it's at, or where it's 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 being the object of admiration
Imagination is what they
It stops niggaz gettin' stacks
Feelin' on the block with loose cracks
is vital for the survival of the street's disciple

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

stuck, slow as molasses in my actions
That's compliments of a fast spliff in the life
In my jacket, adrenaline heightened, mimickin' Tyson
After him cut up Razor Ruddock
In the gutter, was once ghetto prophecy is now ghetto scripture
Lookin' back at it, blow from pretty crack addicts
Older wantin' no static, told some lil' niggaz they can have it
Coke 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, he'd somethin'
Not to his likin', and say, "Son they you"
He got to see my debut, wild-mannered
But wild with them hammers, niggaz frontin' couldn't it
him off the planet, left us in 9-2
With the philosophy of what do, a true street's disciple

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

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

Seemed impossible to us that we ever leave
From the block, where the was forever freezin'
Hell, if I ever let them me, son, in this cell again, fuck these
policemen, plush leathers, I need them, riskin' my freedom
Burners in coats, fuck a sermon from the neighborhood pope
He's sexing ho's, old fart, he's busting ones he stroke
Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, young stretch mark
born in a cycle, future disciples

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