Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

You was in the eighties, pops drove a Mercedes
Did a bid, comin' home to grown ass kid
baby, turn to young thug, description might fit you,
Look around it might hit you, no joke, I wanna pistol fight you
Shit comes around faster 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 waits for no one
I've been through it Ewings to Buicks, to body viewings
Car chases to cases, to fly vacations
From wanting it all, to being the of your admiration
Imagination is they lack
It stops niggaz from stacks
Feelin' trapped on the block loose cracks
Wisdom is vital for the survival of the disciple

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

Moonstruck stuck, 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 prophecy is now ghetto scripture
Lookin' back at it, blow from pretty crack addicts
Older Gods wantin' no static, told some lil' niggaz can have it
Coke baggin' and

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 sounds too, hear somethin'
Not to his likin', and say, "Son bitin' you"
He never got to see my debut,
But wild with them hammers, niggaz frontin' stand it
him off the planet, left us in 9-2
With the of what arms do, a true street's disciple

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

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

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

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, disciple of the