Disciple - Clean Album Version

2004, yeah
 L, what's up?
 Prophesy!
 Yeah, it's prophesy, baby!
 Disciple, disciple (what?) Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (let's go!)
 Word to mama, any lineup of rhymers
 Could bring any drama, anytime, the city's mine, Nas is like
 Love Undying, Money's My Bitches, Thugz Mansion
 Thugs dancin' around the fly sh-
 Pharaoh garment's Prada, Egyptian camelback-riders
 Pyramid architects, Perignon bottles
 Money, jewelry, want me, then, come get me
 Hit me but don't miss me, you history
 Lead flowin' around like a Frisbee, Italian dons from Sicily kiss me
 This ain't 50, this ain't Jigga, this ain't Diddy, this ain't Pretty
 Pain, power, p-, and pistols
 Lyrically no one, hold none near me, hear me
 Kids cheer me like The Count of Monte-Cristo
 Steady poundin' soundin' like G without the lisp, though
 My big bro told me plain and simple, "Nas, do not look back"
 Watch where you took rap, no bookbags and trucker hats
 Just army jacks and diamonds that's flashin'
 What the f- is that? Freestyle
 Disciple, disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (Esco!)
 Like Paul, Michael, and Matthew, Peter, James, and Andrew
 Phillip, Simon, and Judas, I'm disciple of music
 Street beats is the main thing, minus the traitor
 And I'm not a dictator, I'm the righteous invitin' you haters
 Inside the life of the greatest, it'll take you through something real
 Get a smack in your face, 'cause I hurt up, traumatize, ilama
 Bust shells, destroy, yet tryna prevent violence
 If I present iron, somebody dyin', don't even worry 'bout it
 Then, dress warm for the cemetery climate
 When I speak, I need cemetery silence, terror
 See me, gold Hummers, Lamborghini's, man who stole the summer
 Hand straight gleamin', if I don't know you, toe-tag you
 Drag you through the cement, fo-fo maggie
 Body parts in my man's Maserati car, then, party hard in Madagascar
 While Rigor Mortis'll grab ya, him retarded, I'm pass that
 Gloves on, where the mask at? Too many love songs
 All the thugs gone, what happened? Where's the passion?
 Rappers battlin' non-rappers, carryin' on backwards
 Laughin' sayin', "Nas thinks he's Farrakhan preachin' blackness"
 Hell, yeah, awareness is my alias
 Word to the Braveheart written on my bare chest
 The realest, here it is!
 Disciple, disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (streets)
 Disciple (Esco!)