Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

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

The waits for no one
been through it from Ewings to Buicks, to body viewings
Car chases to court cases, to fly
From wanting it all, to being the of your admiration
Imagination is they lack
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 were
out, a young disciple
You had that gleam in eye
of the projects
From the day you were
disciple
Yeah, disciple of the

stuck, slow as molasses in my actions
That's compliments of a fast spliff in the life
In my flight jacket, adrenaline heightened, Tyson
After watchin' him cut up Razor
In the gutter, which was once ghetto is now ghetto scripture
Lookin' back at it, blow jobs from pretty crack
Older wantin' no static, told some lil' niggaz they can have it
Coke baggin' and

took Will, let me describe him, a live one
I think he was the true '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 they you"
He never got to see my debut,
But with them hammers, niggaz frontin' couldn't stand it
Took him off the planet, us in 9-2
With the philosophy of arms do, a true street's disciple

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

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

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

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