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, to young thug, description might fit you,
Look it might hit you, no joke, I wanna pistol fight with you
Shit around faster than you think
Blood and white chalk makes pink, so what's that make
a creature of habitat, the average cat
Won't see where it's at, or where it's

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

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

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

They took Will, let me describe him, a one
I that he was the true 'God's Son', not Jesus, but fearless
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 with them hammers, niggaz frontin' stand it
Took him off the planet, us in 9-2
With the philosophy of arms do, a true street's disciple

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

Plug the mics up, I'm ready to rock,
Reminiscing of measuring pots of Pyrex, cook in the
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 fronts on the facial, gun by the naval
Disciple could blaze you, we it with embalming fluid
Rhymin' to all this time
Fightin' 'bout how Kane and Rakim do it

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

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