Luyện nghe bài hát Disciple

Two-thousand-four,
L, Prophesy
prophesy, baby

Disciple,
(What?)

(Streets)

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(Street)

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(Streets)

(Let's go)

Word to mama, any of rhymers
bring any drama, anytime the city's mine
Nas is love undyin', money's my bitch
In thugz mansion, dancin' around the fly shit

garment's Prada, Egyptian camel back-riders
Pyramid architects, Perignon
Money, jewelry want me to get me
Hit me but miss me, you history

Lead flowin' like a Frisbee
Italian Dons from Sicily me
This ain't 50, this Jigga
This ain't Diddy, this ain't

Pain, power, and pistols
Lyrically no one hold none me, hear me
Kids cheer me like The of Monte Cristo
Steady soundin' like G without the lisp though

My big bro told me and simple, "Nas, do not look back"
where you took rap, no book bags and trucker hats
Just army jacks and that's flashin'
What the fuck is that

Disciple,
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(Esco)

Like Paul, Michael and Matthew, Peter, and Andrew
Phillip, Simon and Judas, I'm disciple of
beats is the main thing minus the traitor
And I'm not a dictator, I'm the righteous you haters

Inside the life of the greatest, it'll take you somethin' real
Get a smack in your face I hurt up, trauma-tize, llama
shells, destroy yet tryna prevent violence
If I iron somebody dyin', don't even worry 'bout it

dress warm for the cemetery climate
When I speak I need silence
Terror see me, Gold Hummers,
Man who stole the

Hand straight gleamin', if I don't know you you
Drag you through the
Fo-fo Maggie body in my man's Maserati car
Then party in Madagascar

While mortis'll grab ya, him retarded
I'm pass that gloves on, where the at?
Too love songs all the thugs gone
What happened? the passion?

battlin' non-rappers, carryin' on backwards
Laughin' Nas thinks he's Farrakhan, preachin' blackness
yeah, awareness is my alias word to the 'Braveheart'
Written on my chest, the realest, here it is

Disciple,
(Streets)

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(Esco)