Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

You was born in the eighties, pops 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 pistol fight with you
comes around faster than you think
Blood and white chalk makes pink, so what's that you?
Become a creature of habitat, the cat
Won't see where it's at, or where it's

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

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

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

They took Will, let me him, a live one
I think that he was the true 'God's Son', not Jesus, but
His ear was up on them sounds too, he'd somethin'
Not to his likin', and say, "Son they you"
He never got to see my debut,
But wild with them hammers, niggaz couldn't stand it
Took him off the planet, us in 9-2
With the of what arms do, a true 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
Disciple
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, it's like my is still on the benches
Surrounded by villains and henchmen, was a convention
1991, son, gold fronts on the facial, gun buck by the
Disciple could you, we laced it with embalming fluid
Rhymin' to music all this
Fightin' 'bout how and Rakim would do it

Seemed to us that we could ever leave
the block, where the world 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
He's sexing ho's, old fart, he's busting when he stroke
Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, young stretch mark
Babies in a cycle, future disciples

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