Yeah, yeah,
You was born in the eighties, pops drove a Did a bid, comin' home to some ass kid Crack baby, turn to young thug, description fit you, Look around it might hit you, no joke, I wanna pistol fight you Shit around faster than you think Blood and white makes pink, so what's that make you? Become a creature of habitat, the cat see where it's at, or where it's goin'
The waits 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 object of admiration Imagination is what they It stops niggaz gettin' stacks Feelin' on the block with loose cracks is vital for the survival of the street's disciple
From the day you born Starring out, a disciple You had that in your eye of the projects From the day you born Street's Yeah, of the projects
stuck, slow as molasses in my actions That's compliments of a fast spliff in the life In my jacket, adrenaline heightened, mimickin' Tyson After him cut up Razor Ruddock In the gutter, was once ghetto prophecy is now ghetto scripture Lookin' back at it, blow from pretty crack addicts Older wantin' no static, told some lil' niggaz they can have it Coke 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, he'd somethin' Not to his likin', and say, "Son they you" He got to see my debut, wild-mannered But wild with them hammers, niggaz frontin' couldn't 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 of the projects From the day you were Disciple Yeah, disciple of the
Plug the mics up, I'm to rock, knockin Reminiscing of measuring pots of Pyrex, in the kitchen Captain Hook to these infants, like my folks is still on the benches Surrounded by and henchmen, was a killer convention 1991, son, fronts on the facial, gun buck by the naval Disciple could blaze you, we laced it embalming fluid Rhymin' to music all this 'bout how Kane and Rakim would do it
Seemed impossible to us that we ever leave From the block, where the was forever freezin' Hell, if I ever let them me, son, in this cell again, fuck these policemen, plush leathers, I need them, riskin' my freedom Burners in coats, fuck a sermon from the neighborhood pope He's sexing ho's, old fart, he's busting ones he stroke Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, young stretch mark born in a cycle, future disciples
From the day you born out, a young disciple You had gleam in your eye Disciple of the the day you were born Street's Yeah, disciple of the