| Yook yook yook yook yook yook yook!
|
| Poor Righteous Teachers is here up on the case with Mr. Junior Reid
|
| Ha ha
|
| What!
|
| Come down Mr. Junior Reid enter
|
| Thinking why
|
| Standing here thinking why standing here thinking why (x6)
|
| It was a dreadful day, yeah
|
| Babylon take me away, why
|
| Down to Rikers Island donde
|
| This is what I see every day, oh yeah
|
| Use razor cutters to cut matches in four
|
| Cause I not sure to get no more
|
| No no more
|
| No no more
|
| Witness the days and be real
|
| The days of boys and rappers
|
| Soul snatchers, gun clappers, and bloodsucking crackers
|
| The body catchers who keep their weapons pointed at ya
|
| The life subtracters, the poison animal eating slackers
|
| Nobody move, nobody bleed as I proceed
|
| I beg you heed this thing me talk with Junior Reid
|
| You load your clip, you cock your shit get on your way
|
| You’re guaranteed to murder something today
|
| From Rikers Island to Sing Sing and San Quentin
|
| You’re touring prisons, result of all that bullshitting
|
| But now you’re bitching, better sharpen up that ice pick and
|
| Proceed to stick him or kiss your stupid ass good riddance
|
| Take me from my wonderful home, oh
|
| Carry me to here in Rome, no
|
| Someone’s smart will use one comb
|
| Mine’ll make a knife
|
| About to get fleas and lice
|
| Tonight
|
| The man who smoke and bruise lose
|
| They’ll always have a next men to use
|
| Peep the gangsta man, why-oy
|
| Of this operation, why-oy
|
| Brutalization, why-oy
|
| Love to the nation, why-oy
|
| True; |
| that day they took me away they had me bound in shackles
|
| Locked down tweleve brothers connected by the ankles
|
| By chains we dangled imprisoned for the star spangled
|
| Banner for glamour mad motherfucker’s slammer
|
| Just like the streets there’s niggas in here wildin' out and dying
|
| You can receive any drugs that you want to try and
|
| The only difference between the streets and prison living
|
| Are homosexuals, the closest you can get to women
|
| And I ain’t 'bout to demote the self and go that route
|
| I’ve been here two years, one week and I want out
|
| When will it cease, this way of death ain’t fit for beasts
|
| I fail to see a correctional facility
|
| It was a dreadful day
|
| Eradication take me away
|
| Take me to a penitentiary
|
| This is what I see every day, oh yeah
|
| Use razor cutters to cut matches in four
|
| Cause me not sure to get no more
|
| No no more why-oy
|
| No no more yeah
|
| Ten men smoke once leave dayy
|
| Don’t mean we on stage eight
|
| Look me eye no red
|
| Like wild monkey weed I’m dead, dead
|
| Poor Righetous Teacher
|
| And Junior Reid sensei
|
| We wanna see the sun rise
|
| In the land of the rising sun
|
| It was a dreadful day
|
| Babylon take me away
|
| Down to Rikers Island donde
|
| This is what I see every day, oh yeah
|
| This is what I see every day
|
| This is what I see every day
|
| Life in a jailhouse, life so rough
|
| Life in a jailhouse so tough
|
| So rough |