Let's go fellas shower time's up in five minutes * sounds of prison bars slamming shut * Get those feet off the table whaddyou think this is home?
(This is bullshit yo son let me get a ciggarette) (I'ma go.. back to my cell and read)
That's it five more minutes and that's it Back to work fellas back to work!
[Dead Prez] Yo lil' Kadeija pops his locks he wanna pop the lock But prison ain't nuttin but a private stock And she be dreamin bout his date of release, she hate the police But loved by her grandma who hugs and kisses her Her father's a political prisoner, Free Fred Son of a Panther that the government shot dead Back in 12/4, 1969 Four o'clock in the mornin, it's terrible but it's fine, cause Fred Hampton Jr. looks just like him Walks just like jim, talks just like him And it might be frightenin the Feds and the snitches To see him organize the gang brothers and sisters So he had to be framed yo, you know how the game go Eighteen years, because the five-oh said so They said he set a fire to a a-rab store But he ignited the minds of the young black and poor
Behind enemy lines, my niggaz is cellmates Most of the youths never escape the jail fates Super maximum camps will advance they gameplan To keep us in the hands of the man, locked up
(Hello?) Collect call from Nes (How are you?) Yo shit is crazy Boo (Have you been alright?) You know I miss you (I feel lonely lonely lonely) Yo woman.. Can you put some money in my commisary?
Lord can't even smoke a loosey since he was twelve 925 locked up with a L They call him triple K, cause he killed three niggaz Another ghetto child got turned into a killer His pops was a Vietnam veteran on heroin Used like a pawn by these white North Americans Momma couldn't handle the stress and went crazy Grandmomma had to raise the baby Just a young boy, born to a life of poverty Hustlin, robbery, whatever brung the paper home Carried the chrome like a blind man holdin cane Tattoes all over his chest, so you can know his name But y'all know how the game go D's kicked in the front door, and guess who they came fo'? A young nigga headed for the pen, coulda been Shoulda been, never see the hood again
Behind enemy lines, my niggaz is cellmates Most of the youths never escape the jail fates Super maximum camps will advance they gameplan To keep us in the hands of the man, locked up
Behind enemy lines, my niggaz is cellmates Most of the youths never escape the jail fates Super maximum camps will advance they gameplan To keep us in the hands of the man, locked up
* speaking in spanish *
You ain't gotta be locked up to be in prison Look how we livin, thirty thousand niggaz a day Up in the bing, standard routine They put us in a box just like our life on the blocks (behind enemy lines) You ain't gotta be locked up to be in prison Look how we livin, thirty thousand niggaz a day Up in the bing, standard routine They put us in a box just like our life on the blocks (behind enemy lines)
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