Yeah, yeah,
You was born in the eighties, pops drove a Did a bid, comin' home to some ass kid Crack baby, to young thug, description might fit you, around it might hit you, no joke, I wanna pistol fight with you Shit around faster than you think Blood and chalk makes pink, so what's that make you? a creature of habitat, the average cat Won't see it's at, or where it's goin'
The hood 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 of your admiration Imagination is what lack It stops niggaz from stacks Feelin' on the block with loose cracks Wisdom is vital for the of the street's disciple
From the day you born out, a young disciple You had that gleam in eye of the projects From the day you born disciple Yeah, of the projects
stuck, slow as molasses in my actions That's compliments of a fast spliff in the life In my flight jacket, adrenaline heightened, Tyson After watchin' him cut up Ruddock In the gutter, was once ghetto prophecy is now ghetto scripture back at it, blow jobs from pretty crack addicts Older Gods wantin' no static, told some lil' they can have it baggin' and toe-taggin'
They took Will, let me him, a live one I think that he was the true 'God's Son', not Jesus, but 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, niggaz frontin' couldn't it Took him off the planet, us in 9-2 With the of what arms do, a true street's disciple
From the day you were out, a young disciple You had that gleam in eye of the projects From the day you born Disciple Yeah, of the projects
the mics up, I'm ready to rock, knockin Reminiscing of measuring pots of Pyrex, cook in the Captain Hook to these infants, like my folks is still on the benches Surrounded by villains and henchmen, was a convention 1991, son, gold fronts on the facial, gun buck by the Disciple could you, we laced it with embalming fluid to music all this time Fightin' 'bout how Kane and would do it
Seemed impossible to us that we could leave From the block, where the was forever freezin' Hell, if I let them shovel me, son, in this cell again, fuck these Devil policemen, plush leathers, I need them, my freedom Burners in bubble coats, a sermon from the neighborhood pope He's sexing ho's, old fart, he's busting ones when he 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 gleam in your eye Disciple of the the day you were born Street's Yeah, of the projects