Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

You was in the eighties, pops drove a Mercedes
Did a bid, home to some grown ass kid
Crack baby, turn to young thug, might fit you,
Look around it might hit you, no joke, I wanna pistol with you
Shit comes faster than you think
and white chalk makes pink, so what's that make you?
Become a creature of habitat, the cat
Won't see where it's at, or it's goin'

The waits for no one
I've been it from Ewings to Buicks, to body viewings
Car chases to cases, to fly vacations
From wanting it all, to being the object of admiration
Imagination is they lack
It stops niggaz from gettin'
Feelin' trapped on the with loose cracks
Wisdom is vital for the of the street's disciple

the day you were 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

Moonstruck stuck, as molasses in my actions
That's compliments of a fast spliff in the night
In my flight jacket, adrenaline heightened, Tyson
After him cut up Razor Ruddock
In the gutter, which was ghetto prophecy is now ghetto scripture
Lookin' at it, blow jobs from pretty crack addicts
Older Gods wantin' no static, told some niggaz they can have it
baggin' and toe-taggin'

They Will, let me describe him, a live one
I think that he was the true Son', not Jesus, but fearless
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 frontin' stand it
Took him off the planet, us in 9-2
With the philosophy of what do, a true street's disciple

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

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

impossible to us that we could ever leave
From the block, where the was forever freezin'
Hell, if I ever let them shovel me, son, in this cell again, fuck
Devil policemen, plush leathers, I them, riskin' my freedom
Burners in bubble coats, fuck a sermon the neighborhood pope
He's sexing ho's, old fart, he's busting ones he stroke
Multi-colored Pelle's, young stretch mark bellies
Babies born in a cycle, future

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