| Sittin' in the Harris County Jail spendin all my little time
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| Not drivin' fancy cars, I’m just starin' at bars and about to lose my mind
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| So I get up to take a shower, funky toes are everywhere
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| Saw a trustee eatin' more than me and I thought it wasn’t fair
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| And it hurts right here, stuck in here for a year
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| I miss my girl and I miss my free world
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| I really miss my free world
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| I’m so all alone, I don’t know when I’m goin home
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| Haha
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| No doubt this jam is funky it’s given from Big Mike
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| Neatly put together something that I know you’ll like
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| But get to the point, to the matter, to the topic
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| Hard as the penitentiary and nobody can stop it
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| 3−2 is by my side and we’re the toughest on the block
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| Non-believers step up to me and they all get dropped
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| Like punks in the place who wanna claim that they down
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| Or claim that they king but don’t even have a crown
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| But I come from the street with my gangsta mentality
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| Slashin' the throats of those who wish to battle me
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| Mic-check 1−2 to the break of dawn
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| And you don’t stop 'cause I’m a project-born |
| I hit it dead on the head, never miss a beat
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| Some scratch the surface but I be gettin' deep
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| B-i-g M-o-n-e-y M-i-k-e is just too f-l-y
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| C-r-e-a-t-i-v-e, exactly what you should call m-e
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| And I’m in this with my trusty pen and pad
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| Mic in hand and, man, I’m makin' 'em mad
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| While I’m rollin' and punks who wanna front get vicked real quick
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| Yo, this is for the convicts
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| (Ex-Cons get funky)
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| Yeah, this is for the convicts
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| (Ex-Cons get funky)
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| Yo, I got more money stashed under my bed
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| Than money in the bank, the bank is what I said
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| Cause when I tear it up suckers get beaten up
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| They ain’t that damn tough and now you know what’s up
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| And what’s up is the fact that I can
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| Throw down with him or her or this or that
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| It doesn’t make a difference, man or woman
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| A sucker is a sucker, so keep 'em comin'
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| Pass me the weight and watch me pump it like a real man
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| Pass me a cooler and I become cooler than an ice tea in the midst of winter
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| Stickin' to you fine young ladies like a splinter
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| Lend an ear so you can hear
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| One of the dopest jams of the year |
| And it’s guaranteed to make your mind click
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| (Hey, who’s this for?)
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| Yo, this is for the convicts
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| (Ex-Cons get funky)
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| Yeah, fool, this is for the convicts
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| (Ex-Cons get funky)
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| This jam is ready, smooth and steady, my rhymes help to uplift it
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| Just to show the proven fact the Ex-Cons are gifted
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| Blowin' minds, not doin' time
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| And if I was to do time, it wouldn’t be because of stealin' rhymes
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| Or any other petty crime
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| Cause I’m not the one to drop a dime
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| I just get hype and go for mine
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| And pullin' all the girls that are fine
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| So here we go, here we go, here we go to make it
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| If you have a prestigious talent, I’ll surely take it
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| Perhaps break it
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| Yo, and if you’re lookin' for a battle, don’t you even try to fake it
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| Huh, 'cause Big Mike is on point
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| 3−2 is on point
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| Ex-Cons rocks the joint with a hit
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| Yo, this is for the convicts
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| (Ex-Cons get funky)
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| Yeah, fool, this is for the convicts
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| (Ex-Cons get funky)
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| Yeah, this is for the convicts |