Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

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

The hood for no one
I've been through it from to Buicks, to body viewings
Car chases to court cases, to fly
From wanting it all, to being the of your admiration
Imagination is what lack
It stops niggaz from gettin'
Feelin' trapped on the block with cracks
is vital for the survival 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 were
disciple
Yeah, of the projects

Moonstruck stuck, as molasses in my actions
That's compliments of a fast spliff in the night
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 jobs from pretty addicts
Older Gods wantin' no static, some lil' niggaz they can have it
Coke baggin' and

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

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

Seemed impossible to us that we ever leave
the block, where the world was forever freezin'
Hell, if I ever let 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 when he stroke
Multi-colored Pelle's, young stretch mark bellies
Babies born in a cycle, future

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