phone rings twice* Hello? (arabic voice) You have a collect call phone call In a New York state correctional facility Press five five to accept, or hang up to decline
Verse One:
Whattup gangstas, how tha fuck ya'll feel We keepin it real, and hold on tight to your steel Let them caps peel, one by one And laugh while the nig run He shoulda been packin his gun, now he gone Cuz he got slippin like an old bitch in the wet staircase shaft, now watch his man snitch to tha police, but them no worry me son I ain't trying to get back it'd be my third felony Pataki he want to see us, criminals fry in the electric chair, but my spirit will never die A true project nigga, I won't hesitate to pull the BLAOW, peace to all busy niggaz One love y'all stay safe And fuck you, Officer Brown, peace to that nigga Case
All ya'll police can suck my diiiiiiick and Mayor Gulliani, that cracker boy full of shit I represent, for all my niggaz doing time And those who got beat up and killed by the swine Beo-tches, them porks, beotch Them think them bad, cuz they carry, glocks and badges And when I'm pimpin in my green Acura They pull me over, like I stole it from some nigga But all my paperwork is legit Registered insured in my name, so ya'll pigs can shit Police be cockin me like I'm some dime piece a G from the street so I can never turn beast
Chorus
Verse Three:
There's crooked cops, that's why they get shot by tha minute If you were criminal and you ready to represent, kid blaow, that's how I like it, word is bond My hair ain't blonde my eyes ain't blue so now I'm dead boo It's on like this is war, all my brothers in the hood I gots fam that's constant understand I wish they would but it's all good, peace to my niggaz locked in jail Bushy Kam, Killa Kane, Fogey Foo, and Ale Down Low Wrecka and Junior be on storm Keep your headz up, and keep it real cuz you know I'm gonna And for my niggaz doin six months I see yo ass next summer, word up