Street's Disciple (feat. Olu Dara)

Yeah, yeah, yeah
 You was born in the '80s, pops drove a Mercedes
 Did a bid, coming home to some grown ass kid
 Crack baby turn to young thug, description might fit you
 Look around it might hit you
 No joke, don't I wanna pistol fight with you
 Shit comes around faster than you think
 Blood and white chalk makes pink, so what's that make you?
 Become a creature of habitat, the average cat
 Won't see where it's at, or where it's going
 The hood waits for no one
 I've been through it from Ewings to Buicks, to body viewings
 Car chases to court cases, to fly vacations
 From wanting it all, to being the object of your admiration
 Imagination is what they lack
 It stops niggas from getting stacks
 Feeling trapped on the block with loose cracks
 Wisdom is vital for the survival of the street's disciple
 From the day you were born
 Starring out, a young disciple
 You had that gleam in your eye
 Disciple of the projects!
 From the day you were born
 Street's disciple
 Yeah, disciple of the projects
 Moonstruck stuck, slow as molasses in my actions
 That's compliments of a fast spliff in the night life
 In my flight jacket, adrenaline heightened, mimickin' Tyson
 After watchin' him cut up Razor Ruddock
 In the gutter, which was once ghetto prophecy is now ghetto scripture
 Lookin' back at it, blowjobs from pretty crack addicts
 Older Gods wantin' no static, told some lil' niggas they can have it
 Coke baggin' and toe-taggin'
 They took Will, let me describe him, a live one
 I think that he was the true God's Son - not Jesus, but fearless
 His ear was up on them sounds too, he'd hear somethin'
 Not to his likin', and say, "Son, they bitin' you"
 He never got to see my debut, wild-mannered
 But wild with them hammers, niggas frontin' couldn't stand it
 Took him off the planet, left us in '92
 With the philosophy of what arms do, a true street's disciple
 From the day you were born
 Starring out, a young disciple
 You had that gleam in your eye
 Disciple of the projects!
 From the day you were born
 Street's disciple
 Yeah, disciple of the projects
 Plug the mics up, I'm ready to rock, knocking
 Reminiscing of measuring pots of Pyrex, cook in the kitchen
 Captain Hook to these infants
 It's like my folks is still on the benches
 Surrounded by villains and henchmen, was a killer convention
 1991, son, gold fronts on the facial, gun buck by the naval
 Disciple could blaze you, we laced it with embalming fluid
 Rhyming to music all this time
 Fighting 'bout how Kane and Rakim would do it
 Seemed impossible to us that we could ever leave
 From the block, where the world was forever freezing
 Hell if I ever let them shovel me, son, in this cell again
 Fuck these devil policemen, plush leathers, I need them
 Risking my freedom, burners in bubble coats
 Fuck a sermon from the neighborhood pope
 He's sexing ho's, old fart, he's busting ones when he stroke
 Multi-colored Pelle Pelle's, young stretch mark bellies
 Babies born in a cycle, future disciples
 From the day you were born
 Starring out, a young disciple
 You had that gleam in your eye
 Disciple of the projects!
 From the day you were born
 Street's disciple
 Yeah, disciple of the projects