[Intro: Immortal Technique (parole officer)]
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(980505A) Yeah nigga what
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(You made parole) What?
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(Pack your stuff) The fuck?
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(And get the fuck out of here) A-haha
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Aiyyo man, it's about motherfuckin time man
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Aiyyo G, aiyyo G son, I got my papers man
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I'm out this motherfucker!
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[Immortal Technique]
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Yeah, I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again
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Never selling heroin, never selling crack again
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Don't work for the government coke packagin
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Don't fire indiscriminate, with the mac again
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My people are stuck behind glass like a mannequin
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They pretend to give a fuck, just like the Vatican
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Second chance, faith based, two-faced Samaritans
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Every time we come back, they... [record rewinds]
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I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again
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Never selling heroin, never selling crack again
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I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again
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I'm out of, I'm out of (I'm out this motherfucker!)
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Yeah, I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again
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Never selling heroin, never selling crack again
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Don't work for the government coke packagin
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Don't fire indiscriminate, with the mac again
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My people are stuck behind glass like a mannequin
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They pretend to give a fuck, just like the Vatican
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Second chance, faith based, two-faced Samaritans
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Every time we come back, they keep on cashin in
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Prison labor, third-world sweatshop comparisons
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'til we kidnap the whole fuckin garrison
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Yeah, poverty, makes people do, reckless things
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But corporations do worse to protect they bling
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Prisons are more, overcrowded than the rap game
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They say you more likely to go to jail with a black name
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Freakonomics that I speak through ebonics
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and fuck Phonics, little niggaz is (Hooked On) chronic
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But if you on stage with the DEA, as your hype man
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Don't get yourself locked up, and blame the white man
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We transformed gangs and criminal enterprises
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Usin O.G.'s as advisors
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Before they, send us to war, after they divide us
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But I won't let 'em use us like Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders
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My movement's like a jujitsu kata
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I graduated outta prison, so FUCK my alma mater nigga
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[Interlude: Immortal Technique (woman)]
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(Hello?) Yeah yeah, what's up yo?
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(Hey, how you doin?) Yo, you know what?
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I just got my papers (you're fuckin lying!)
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Yo I'm comin home to you, I'll see you in like a day and a half
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([screams] Oh my God, I'm so happy! Are you serious?)
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([screams] I'm so happy! Are you fuckin serious?)
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Yeah, I'm dead serious baby, I'm comin home (oh my God!)
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Put the little blue thing on for me, aight?
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(You got that baby, yeah!)
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[Immortal Technique]
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I'm on parole, and I'll never be alone again
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Fuck this place baby, I'm comin home again
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Shorty wrapped around me so I'll, never be cold again
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Never have to knock a nigga out, for the phone again
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Prison ain't the place that you find your rite of passage in
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It's slavery, with nasty food in your abdomen
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Middle passage, bottom of the ship, how they pack 'em in
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Perpetrators on some fake shit, sweeter than saccharin
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Jailhouse snitches without corroborating evidence
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Niggaz sellin niggaz out for true to be, Benjamins
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But now I'm free, hit the block, eatin Entenmann's
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Benihana in and out, flow to eat to enter in
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Newspaper pencillin, tryin to pay the rent again
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Ex-con job interview, nobody answerin
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Feelin violent from the frustation I got pent up in
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But not tryin to go back to the place, I was sent up in
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Turn my own life around, fuck the establishment
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Listenin to hip-hop like "Where the fuck the talent went?"
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How the fuck did you replace, lyrics with your swaggerin?
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I'ma fix that, rhymin on with the mag-a-num
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I roll up in a caravan, full of North Africans
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My squad got, more soldier niggaz than the Saracens
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Cause just watch (watch!) when the terrorists attack again
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Their reaction's gonna be draft 'em and send us back again
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[scratches]
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I'm on parole, and I'll never be alone again
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Fuck this place baby, I'm comin home again
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Shorty wrapped around me so I'll, never be cold again
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Never have to knock a nigga out, for the phone again
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Prison ain't the place that you find your |