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

The hood for no one
been through it from Ewings to Buicks, to body viewings
Car chases to cases, to fly vacations
From wanting it all, to the object of your admiration
is what they lack
It stops from gettin' stacks
Feelin' trapped on the block with cracks
Wisdom is vital for the survival of the disciple

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

Moonstruck stuck, slow as in my actions
compliments of a fast spliff in the night life
In my flight jacket, adrenaline heightened, Tyson
watchin' him cut up Razor 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, told some lil' niggaz can have it
baggin' and toe-taggin'

They took Will, let me describe him, a one
I that 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 got to see my debut, wild-mannered
But wild with hammers, niggaz frontin' couldn't 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 born
Starring out, a disciple
You had that in your eye
Disciple of the
From the day you were
Disciple
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, it's like my is still on the benches
by villains and henchmen, was a killer convention
1991, son, fronts on the facial, gun buck by the naval
Disciple could blaze you, we it with embalming fluid
to music all this time
Fightin' 'bout how and Rakim would do it

Seemed impossible to us that we could ever
From the block, where the world was forever
Hell, if I ever let them 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 ones when he
Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, stretch mark bellies
Babies in a cycle, future disciples

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