Sean Price, Rock (Heltah Skeltah) - Jail Shit lyrics

Yo, listen (Sean P)
This my story I'm sticking to it

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