| 4th Disciple, G.G.O., 4th Disciple, G.G.O.
|
| Razah, G.G.O., Razah G.G.O.
|
| 4th Disciple, G.G.O., Malachi, G.G.O.
|
| I got them scared I’mma shine, because my mind be ahead of it’s time
|
| I be the future, terrorist to niggaz that sign
|
| Got more than Valentine, twelve contract binds
|
| We my guns outta Palestine, to silence my nine
|
| It’s either God or the the devil, better balance your mind
|
| The Black Libra, raise amongst crack leaders
|
| If the Hebrews is Jews, it’s a Black Jesus
|
| So I’mma tear Satan’s kingdom down like Shirley
|
| Ceaser, dedicated to the great achivers
|
| The late comers and the early leavers, get it early, I ain’t wordly neither
|
| Archangel in this armageddon, who be a calm weapon
|
| More deadly than the bomb threaten, rock the mic til my palms sweating
|
| We be the bride, walkin’to God’s wedding, all I gave was brotherly love
|
| Now they act, wired and bugged, like CIA’s supplying them drugs
|
| Who can trust in these last days, hold ya breath when the gas sprays
|
| My projects is a crack maze, that was built for a black slave
|
| To keep us heading to a fast braid, same shit different last names
|
| Ya’ll gettin’caught up in this rap game, rap game
|
| I’m reality, poverty, poetry, prophecy
|
| Honesty, pain that’s in one harmony
|
| Pardon me, for the steppin’on toes
|
| But we ain’t came here to bag your hoes, we came to bring back soul
|
| Yeah, Sunny Jewels that be G.G.O.
|
| Killah Priest, that be G.G.O.
|
| Prodigal Sunn, be G.G.O.
|
| 60 Sec., that be G.G.O.
|
| Shabazz, that be G.G.O.
|
| This be G.G.O.
|
| Roll out the red carpet, insert the cartridge
|
| I got a hunger like a hostage, in Kosovo, run and tell so and so Bop your head to my promo, we went from water guns to four-fours
|
| To breakin’government through barcodes
|
| Now it’s man verse computer, eight thousand CC’s of brain
|
| You fell in love with what you can’t even claim
|
| I can’t maintain to watch no blood suckers campaign
|
| Prayers and pain, for months turn to tear drops of rain
|
| I stay ghetto like the A train, survived all this crack and cocaine
|
| And still alive so we can rap and complain
|
| Now we done dropped out to get cream, since school teachers is turning to fiends
|
| Strip dancers comin’out they g-strings
|
| Nice thighs in them iceberg jeans, projects we the nation of kings
|
| You too fly, then I’mma clip wings, we go to work while others’ll sling
|
| Audi’s and teens, and d’s smoke weed til it’s dark and cloudy
|
| Don’t fuckin’crowd me, I’m too deep, you can’t count me Ask Bush while we flippin', and we gettin’rowdy
|
| We the last one left up in this King’s country
|
| We the last one left up in this King’s country |