Luyện nghe bài hát Streets Disciple

Yeah, yeah,

You was born in the eighties, pops a Mercedes
Did a bid, comin' home to grown ass kid
Crack baby, turn to young thug, 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 make you?
Become a of habitat, the average cat
Won't see it's at, or where it's goin'

The waits for no one
I've been through it from to Buicks, to body viewings
Car chases to cases, to fly vacations
From wanting it all, to being the object of your
Imagination is they lack
It niggaz from gettin' stacks
Feelin' on the block with loose cracks
Wisdom is vital for the survival of the disciple

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

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

They took Will, let me describe him, a one
I think that he was the 'God's Son', not Jesus, but fearless
His ear was up on them sounds too, hear somethin'
Not to his likin', and say, "Son they you"
He never got to see my debut,
But wild with them hammers, frontin' couldn't stand it
him off the planet, left us in 9-2
With the philosophy of what do, a true street's disciple

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

Plug the mics up, I'm to rock, knockin
Reminiscing of measuring pots of Pyrex, 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, gold fronts on the facial, gun by the naval
Disciple could blaze you, we laced it with fluid
Rhymin' to music all this
Fightin' how Kane and Rakim would do it

Seemed to us that we could ever leave
From the block, where the world was forever
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 bubble coats, a sermon from the neighborhood pope
He's sexing ho's, old fart, busting ones when he stroke
Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, young stretch bellies
Babies born in a cycle, disciples

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