Yeah, yeah, yeah      You was born in the eighties, pops drove a Mercedes   Did a bid, comin' home to some grown ass kid   Crack baby, turn to young thug, description might fit you,   Look around it might hit you, no joke, 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 goin'      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 niggaz from gettin' stacks   Feelin' 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, blow jobs from pretty crack addicts   Older Gods wantin' no static, told some lil' niggaz 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, niggaz frontin' couldn't stand it   Took him off the planet, left us in 9-2   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, knockin   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   Rhymin' to music all this time   Fightin' '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 freezin'   Hell, if I ever let them shovel me, son, in this cell again, fuck these   Devil policemen, plush leathers, I need them, riskin' 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