Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

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

The hood for no one
been through it from Ewings to Buicks, to body viewings
Car chases to cases, to fly vacations
wanting it all, to being the object of your admiration
Imagination is what lack
It stops niggaz from stacks
Feelin' trapped on the block loose cracks
is vital for the survival of the street's disciple

From the day you were
Starring out, a disciple
You had gleam 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 spliff in the night
In my flight jacket, adrenaline heightened, mimickin'
After watchin' him cut up Razor
In the gutter, which was ghetto prophecy is now ghetto scripture
Lookin' back at it, blow jobs from pretty crack
Older Gods wantin' no static, told lil' niggaz they can have it
Coke and toe-taggin'

They took Will, let me 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 wild with hammers, niggaz frontin' couldn't stand it
Took him off the planet, us in 9-2
the philosophy of what arms do, a true street's disciple

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

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

Seemed impossible to us we could ever leave
From the block, where the was forever freezin'
Hell, if I ever let them shovel me, son, in this cell again, fuck
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, he's busting ones when he
Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, young stretch bellies
Babies born in a cycle, future

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