Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Jail Shit, artist - Sean Price. Date of issue: 21.11.2005
Song language: English
Jail Shit |
| Who this? |
| Sean Price, groovy shit |
| Catch a body cop out to a two to six |
| Lesser charge, yo don’t even stress the sarge |
| That’s my girl pops, why you think she bless the God? |
| Weed and dope, anything you need to smoke |
| For the Kings, Ñetas, triple B’s and Locs |
| Five Percent niggas, ayo, peace God |
| Knife in ya' hand, tryna get a damn piece, God |
| Ain’t nothin' left to do but pull out ya' piece, God |
| Dig in they face, until you tear out a piece, God |
| Hearing some things, overall, fearing no things |
| Set it off on a German, do a year in the bing |
| You done grown dreadlocks, did a bid in the bing |
| You done blown head bop, turned queer in the bing |
| You should hang it up pa, can’t take this stuff |
| But wait, pops died, go to wake in cuffs |
| Bitch |
| You come home to the streets, niggas raising hell |
| Fightin', cuttin', damn it’s the same as jail |
| Only the grimy get over, ain’t no making bail |
| Get torn out the frame if ya' frame is frail |
| I hope and pray my first born be next to parole |
| Tired of liftin' weights, playin' chess with stones |
| I’m tired of things, tired of the riots and gangs |
| Tired of the jack mac, calimari and Tang |
| When I come home ma, I swear to God I’ma change |
| But when I, come home, you know the God won’t change |
| I’m bluffin' for real, girl you know the fuck is the deal |
| Soon as I touchdown, I need to puff on the real |
| Bang my first floor pa, now I’m focused, free |
| But caught a violation for smoking weed |
| As the cop escort me, as I troop to a cell |
| With a smile, but inside I’m feeling stupid as hell |
| Man I’m 29 going on 30, kid |
| Can’t be getting locked up for no dirty dick |
| You come home to the streets, niggas raising hell |
| Fightin', cuttin', damn it’s the same as jail |
| Only the grimy get over, ain’t no making bail |
| Get torn out the frame if ya' frame is frail |
| My life is in danger, my son set it off on the imam |
| Niggas being easy, how the fuck can you be calm? |
| Looking bad son, them niggas deep as hell |
| Realizing all my motherfuckin' peeps is frail |
| It’s just me, Killa, Rum Dick, Psyche and Will |
| Dee and a crackhead named Mike from the 'ville |
| If I die, yo I’m going out with knives in they grill |
| All my motherfuckin' life I been real, yo |
| Yo, ayo this one for all my real niggas |
| You come home to the streets, niggas raising hell |
| Fightin', cuttin', damn it’s the same as jail |
| Only the grimy get over, ain’t no making bail |
| Get torn out the frame if ya' frame is frail |
| You come home to the streets, niggas raising hell |
| Fightin', cuttin', damn it’s the same as jail |
| Only the grimy get over, ain’t no making bail |
| Get torn out the frame if ya' frame is frail |