Disciple Lyrics

Two-thousand-four, yeah L, whattup? Prophesy It's prophesy, baby
Disciple, disciple (What?) Disciple (Streets) Disciple (Streets) Disciple (Streets) Disciple (Street)
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 undyin', money's my bitch In thugz mansion, thugs dancin' around the fly shit
Pharaoh garment's Prada, Egyptian camel back-riders Pyramid architects, Perignon bottles Money, jewelry want me to 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, pussy 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 book bags and trucker hats Just army jacks and diamonds that's flashin' What the fuck 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 somethin' real Get a smack in your face 'cause I hurt up, trauma-tize, llama 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)