| I get mail but ain’t no letters from nobody I know |
| it’s like I’ve been forgotton-every since I got locked down |
| but when my feet hit the ground, that’s when phony homies come back around |
| I’m talkin fair weather friends |
| that kick it with you when the sun shines on you, but when the fair weather ends |
| It’s over… nobody screamin free Z-Ro like Bun B was screamin' Free Pimp C |
| accept Flipperachi and Pimp C |
| but I’m still livin' and still pimpin' my pen |
| I swear I’m surrounded by women-most offenders ain’t men |
| they gossip like they sittin in the beauty shop |
| can’t own nothin-too busy criticizin what the next man got |
| and all I hear is I ain’t gon' sack no groceries or work at fast food |
| I would sweep the floor at MacDonalds if I had to |
| fuck ridin' homie I’m tryna raise my daughter |
| hopin' I make parole so I can work on bein' a father |
| Another birthday came and went-still wearin' white |
| I try to sleep all day long, so I can ride all night |
| no visits or rec-the only time I get to leave my cell is at chow times and |
| showers |
| minutes feel as if there hours |
| I read books, tryna put some fat on my head |
| dreamin' about when I get back on my bread |
| So many people want me to fall-I know they’d love to see me on lock |
| but in a minute-I'll be back on top-in due time… |
| Time waits for no one |
| last year was a hard one but life goes on |
| I bump my head against the wall, learnin' right from wrong |
| I fall off every ten minutes on this mission I’m on |
| Time waits for no one |
| last year was a hard one but life goes on |
| I never said I was perfect, man I come from the block |
| if it wasn’t for time, I’d be stuck in the same spot |
| I can breathe again-pass my a blunt that’s fat |
| plus my strap, so I can face my enemies again |
| July 9th, ain’t no more conversary-catch me at Pappadeux |
| time to get tappered by free world clippers and choppa clothes |
| plus I gotta leave some people alone |
| that could determine if I go back to prison or stay at home |
| bottom line-you ain’t gotta be in jail to be doin' time |
| It ain’t like it’s hard to tell-I've reentered the game |
| ain’t nothin changed-accept the year |
| when I left people dyin' and death is still here |
| as if we fear nothin' man enough to kill somethin |
| but too coward to come together and build somethin |
| violent crimes, the caskets are smaller in size |
| how the hell a ten year old get shot-eleven times |
| prison ain’t changed me, I’m the same nigga |
| not a trouble maker but ya’ll know I’ll never hesitate to pull-a-trigger |
| they say my ghetto instrumental is influential to black |
| I just confess how far I go, not to get put on my back |
| I never made a man kill a man |
| even if he was bumpin' my song at the time-murder is an original plan |
| I understand it’s a time to be born and a time to die |
| time to laugh and a time to cry |
| A time to look for somethin' and a time to consider it lost |
| Time for sadiness and a time for joy |
| a time to build and a time to destroy |
| a time for war and peace |
| a time for silence and a time to speak |
| And I think it’s time we come together on these streets |
| fill up churches Sunday mornin' like clubs-Saturday night |
| and have a good worship service-just like we have a good fight |
| 'cause when the trumphet blows it’s over, time is at it’s end |
| if you don’t wanna burn, forever repent for all of you’re sins |
| and homie I don’t give a fuck, if you blood or cuz |
| get you’re relationship right with the one above |
| 'cause it’s almost time… |
| Time waits for no one |
| last year was a hard one but life goes on |
| I bump my head against the wall, learnin' right from wrong |
| I fall off every ten minutes on this mission I’m on |
| Time waits for no one |
| last year was a hard one but life goes on |
| I never said I was perfect, man I come from the block |
| if it wasn’t for time, I’d be stuck in the same spot |