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 young thug, description fit you,
Look around it hit you, no joke, I wanna pistol fight with you
Shit comes around faster than you
Blood and white makes pink, so what's that make you?
Become a of habitat, the average cat
Won't see where at, or where it's goin'

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

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

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

They took Will, let me describe him, a one
I think that he was the 'God's Son', not Jesus, but fearless
His ear was up on them sounds too, he'd somethin'
Not to his likin', and say, "Son bitin' you"
He got to see my debut, wild-mannered
But with them hammers, niggaz frontin' couldn't stand it
him off the planet, left us in 9-2
With the philosophy of arms do, a true street's disciple

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

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

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

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