 Geah...
Spice 1:
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 nine
They see these drawers, that im wearing, muthafuckas, ain't mine, nigga
Excuse me, homie, can I hit that mista
Niggas blowing up in the while a toilet tissue
Ain't 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 time, player
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 ain't no going out
See, I keep scoring clout and show these niggas, what im all about
See, niggas screaming from cell to cell
Snitches don't tell a party in hell at Santa Rita County Jail
E-Roc:
Everytime I turn around, everytime I look
Im considered to be a murderer a crook
Ali shook the world, I'm 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 can't 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
Witcha 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, it's a Santa Rita weekend
Just sitting up on the top bunk
Watching the cell block row
Geah...
Just sitting up on the top bunk
Watching the cell block row
Geah...
E-40:
Seven zero seven
Case motherfucking number two eleven
Stressing manifestin tore up from the floor penelope's 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 and make let me go po po, I'm 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
Just sitting up on the top bunk
Watching the cell block row
Boots:
Nah man, I didn't want the chorus right here
I wanna throw that right down there
You know, that bassline
Geah...
It's 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
Oh whats up, man, im back again but its a temporary situation
Taking weekend vacation government incaceration
I call myself working on a pay hike
They calling me working on my third strike
Sike i cant go forward
And motherfuckas cant ignore it, cos all my peoples on parole
In the pen gotta warrant so its some shit i done leaped in
Damn, another Santa Rita weekend
Just sitting up on the top bunk
Watching the cell block row
Geah...
Just sitting up on the top bunk
Watching the cell block row
Geah...
Geah...
Geah...
Geah...
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