| Slap the cuffs on
|
| You’re goin' downtown
|
| Gonna lock you up in the hole
|
| 'Cause the dea made a powerplay
|
| And you’re lookin' at 2 to 4
|
| Back at the pad
|
| Ya thought you were bad
|
| Got your stash up in the wall
|
| But there’s a gun to your head
|
| And you’re gonna be dead
|
| Unless ya cut a deal with the law
|
| All ya want is what the rich people got
|
| 'Cause the people need power too
|
| There’s only lousy jobs run by slobs
|
| And ya get paid crap for what ya do
|
| Sellin' drugs, run with the thugs
|
| And you’re makin' it on the deal
|
| But your regular man got hit with a gram
|
| And the son of a bitch started to squeal
|
| Salutations from the ghetto nation
|
| Out on the lawn ya strip the car down
|
| And you’re sippin' corn on the porch
|
| If the neighbors complain open up the 12-gauge
|
| Shut your mouth or you’re gonna get torched
|
| Party tonight 'til the sun gets bright
|
| Load the house up with sime whores
|
| 'Cause you’re goin' away 700 days
|
| Out on the killin' floor
|
| Salutations from the ghetto nation
|
| They never found the bank account
|
| And you’re sittin' on 30 grand
|
| But you don’t mind doin' the time
|
| As long as your freedom day is at hand
|
| Out on parole ya take a stroll
|
| Ya kick another habit everyday
|
| Ya got a new plan, super scam
|
| Livin' the american way
|
| Salutations from the ghetto nation |