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 wanna pistol fight you
Shit comes faster than you think
Blood and white chalk makes pink, so that make you?
a creature of habitat, the average cat
Won't see where it's at, or where it's

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

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

Moonstruck stuck, slow as in my actions
That's compliments of a fast spliff in the life
In my flight jacket, adrenaline heightened, mimickin'
After watchin' him cut up Ruddock
In the gutter, which was once ghetto prophecy is now ghetto
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 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 bitin' you"
He never got to see my debut,
But wild them hammers, niggaz frontin' couldn't stand it
him off the planet, left us in 9-2
With the of what arms do, a true street's disciple

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

Plug the mics up, I'm ready to rock,
Reminiscing of pots of Pyrex, cook in the kitchen
Hook to these infants, it's like my folks 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 could you, we laced it with embalming fluid
Rhymin' to all this time
Fightin' 'bout how Kane and would do it

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

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