980505A, Yeah nigga what?
|
You made parole. Pack your stuff, (the fuck) and get the fuck outa here.
|
Ay yo man, It's about motherfucking time man,
|
Ay yo G, Ay yo G son, I got my papers man, I'm out this motherfucker.
|
I'm outta jail, and i'm never going back again,
|
never selling heroin, never selling crack again,
|
Don't work for the government, coke packaging.
|
Don't fire indiscriminate with the mac again.
|
My people are stuck behind glass like a mannequin.
|
They pretend to give a fuck, just like the Vatican.
|
Second chance, fate based, *two faced* Samaritans.
|
Every time we come back, they keep on cashing in.
|
Prisons labor, third world sweat shop comparisons.
|
Till we kidnapped the whole fucking garrison.
|
Yeah, poverty makes people do wreckless things,
|
but corporations do worse to protect their bling.
|
Prisons are more over crowded than the rap game,
|
they say your more likely to go to jail with a black name.
|
Freakonomics that i speak through ebonics are fuck cronics.
|
Little niggers is hooked on chronic, nigga.
|
but if you on stage with the D.E.A as your hype man,
|
don't get yourself locked up and blame the white man.
|
We transform gangs and criminal enterprises,
|
using O-G's as advisers, before they send us to war,
|
after they divide us.
|
But i wont let them use us like Teddy Roosevelt's ruff ryders.
|
My movements like a jujitsu kada,
|
I graduated outta prison,
|
so fuck my alma mater.
|
|
I'm on parole, and i'll never be alone again,
|
fuck this place baby, I'm coming home again.
|
Family wrapped around me, so i never be cold again.
|
Never have to knock a nigga out for the phone again.
|
Prison ain't the place that you find your rite of passage in,
|
it's slavery with nasty food in your abdomen.
|
Middle passage, bottom of the ship, how they pack em in.
|
Perpetrators on some fake shit, sweeter than saccharin.
|
Jail house snitches without corroborating evidence,
|
niggas selling niggas out for two to three Benjamins.
|
But now I'm free, hit the block eating Entenmann's
|
beni-hana in and out, flow for me to enter in
|
newspaper pencillin', trying to [pay the rent again
|
excon job interview nobody answering
|
feeling violent from the frustration i got pent up in
|
but not trying to go back to the place i was sent up in
|
turn my own life around, fuck the establishment
|
listening to hip hop like where the fuck the talent went?
|
how the fuck did you replace lyrics with your swaggerin'
|
i'ma fix that rhymin em with the magnum
|
i roll up in a caravan, full of north africans
|
my squad got more soldier niggas than the saracens
|
cos just watch when the terrorists attack again
|
their reaction's gonna be draft us and send us back again
|
|
I'm on parole, and i'll never be alone again,
|
fuck this place baby, I'm coming home again.
|
Family wrapped around me, so i never be cold again.
|
Never have to knock a nigga out for the phone again.
|
Prison ain't the place that you find your rite of passage in,
|
it's slavery with nasty food in your abdomen.
|
Middle passage, bottom of the ship, how they pack em in.
|
Perpetrators on some fake shit, sweeter than saccharin.
|
|
-----------------
|
Out on Parole
|
Immortal Technique |