Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

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

The hood for no one
been 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 what they
It stops niggaz gettin' stacks
Feelin' trapped on the block with cracks
Wisdom is for the survival of the street's disciple

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

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

took 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, hear somethin'
Not to his likin', and say, "Son bitin' you"
He got to see my debut, wild-mannered
But wild with them hammers, niggaz frontin' stand it
Took him off the planet, us in 9-2
With the philosophy of what arms do, a true disciple

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

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

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

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