Gee Stepping up out of my cell With santos and county blues handcuffs and shackles Gonna ride up on that grey goose, Coming out of a case Cos i was strapped with my nines They see these drawers that im wearing Muthafuckas aint mine nigga Excuse me homie can i hit that mista Niggas blowing up in the while a toilet tissue Aint this a bitch some niggas are scared to here Fool i'm with it So phone check Nigga get the fuck off the line Before i stick your ass in here and have to do some more timeplayer Want to give me the strap cos i was strapped with a glock I guess i got to sit my black ass right there and get shot see Fool But fool it aint no going out See i keep scoring clout And show these niggas what im all about See niggas screaming from cell to cell Snitches dont tell a party in hell a santa rita county jail Everytime i turn around everytime i look Im considered to be a murderer a crook, I lea shook the world im gonna shake my homies hand Three in the morning dressed in blue once again My size ten rest upon the concrete floor Heads bob real slow to a freestyle flow I dont know This masterplan Cant understand why there's more black folks in jail than japenese in Japan But err my eyes pink Sitting upon that bunk Thinking about them tickets Choking up on that funk chunk Withca a snicker from my commisary bank Sunday monday came fool im out this home change But it makes me think the systems treating us like a merry go round One day you're chilling at home The next you headed down Sam peace to my hounds in the county in the pen Once again its a santa rita weekend Chorus Just sitting up on the top bunk Watching the cell block grow. Seven zeroh seven casemotherfucking number two eleven Stressing manifescence tore up from the floor Penelope gots me on the floor Accused of robbing a store Who you know nigga naybody? Besides which i refuse to answer any questions Without the advisory of my lawyer mr baker Perming? of this wall i make Let me go po po im innocent Mistaken right suppose all blacks look alike Thank you kindly sir You need to practice your professional better Never run up on me again Bust a pattern be off into the wind Back up off me beyatch Just the other day my cronies shot me up high We warn you baby boy You becoming hella tight Clayback back a building up there by dreno, rita, quentin also gino Chorus Nah man i didnt want the chorus right here I wanna throw that right down there you know That bassline Its like yeaoh, meao? weigh (wait) two scales It dont mean shit when you'r sitting in the county jail Is it my turn to tell the tale Of how i got popped and how my lawyer failed to get me out On the slight spot cell block my homies give me love Some here for having gacks Some here for selling drugs Sometimes you do your shit And aint no second tries Look around theres hell of motherfuckas that i recognize
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