Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

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

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

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

Moonstruck stuck, as molasses in my actions
That's compliments of a fast spliff in the night
In my jacket, adrenaline heightened, mimickin' Tyson
After watchin' him cut up Ruddock
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 lil' niggaz they can it
baggin' and toe-taggin'

They 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 too, he'd hear somethin'
Not to his likin', and say, "Son bitin' 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

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

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

Seemed impossible to us that we could 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, fuck a sermon from the pope
He's ho's, old fart, he's busting ones when he stroke
Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, stretch mark bellies
Babies born in a cycle, future

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