Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

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

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

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

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

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 got to see my debut, wild-mannered
But wild with them hammers, niggaz frontin' couldn't it
Took him off the planet, us in 9-2
With the philosophy of what arms do, a street's disciple

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

Plug the up, I'm ready to rock, knockin
Reminiscing of measuring pots of Pyrex, in the kitchen
Captain Hook to these infants, it's like my folks is 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
Rhymin' to music all time
Fightin' 'bout how and Rakim would do it

Seemed impossible to us that we could ever
From the block, where the world was forever
Hell, if I ever let 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, busting ones when he stroke
Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, young stretch mark
Babies in a cycle, future disciples

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