The Coup, Spice 1, E-40 - Santa Rita Weekend lyrics

Stepping up out of my cell
With sandals and county blues
Handcuffs and shackles
Finna ride up on that grey goose
Coming out of a case
Cos I was strapped with my nines
But see these drawers that I'm wearing?
Muthafuckas ain't mine, nigga
Excuse me, homie, can I hit that mista?
Niggas rollin' up indo outta toilet tissue
Ain't this a bitch
Some niggas are scared to hit it
Fool I'm with it so phone check
Nigga get the fuck off the line
Before I stick your ass in here and
Have to do some more time, player
Want to give me the strap cos
I was strapped with a Glock
I guess I got to sit my black
Ass right there and get shot see fool
But fool it ain't no going out
See I keep scoring clout
And show these niggas what im all about
See niggas screaming from cell to cell
Snitches don't tell a party in hell
A Santa Rita county jail

Everytime I turn around everytime I look
Im considered to be a murderer a crook
Ali shook the world im gonna
Shake my homies hand
Three in the morning dressed
In blue once again
My size ten rest upon the concrete floor
Heads bob real slow to a freestyle flow
I don't know this masterplan can't understand
Why there's more black folks in
Jail than japenese in japan
But err my eyes pink sitting upon that bunk
Thinking about them tickets
Choking up on that funk chunk
Wit' this nigga from my commisary bank
Sunday monday came fool im
Out this holding tank
But it makes me think the systems treating
Us like a merry go round
One day you're chilling at home
The next you headed downtown
Peace to my hounds in the county in the pen
Once again it's a santa rita weekend

Just sitting up on the top bunk
Watching the cell block row

Seven zeroh seven case motherfucking
Number two eleven
Stressing manifestin tore up from the floor
Penelope's gots me on the floor
Accused of robbing a store
Who you know nigga naybody?
Besides which I refuse to
Answer any questions
Without the advisory of my lawyer mr baker
Perming? of this wall I make
Let me go po po im innocent
Mistaken right suppose all blacks look alike
Thank you kindly sir
You need to practice your professional better
Never run up on me again
Bust a pattern be off into the wind
Back up off me beyatch
Just the other day my cronies shot me a kite
E-40 baby boy you becoming hella tight
Clayback, Vacaville up there by
Reno, Rita, Quentin, Folsom, chino

Just sitting up on the top bunk
Watching the cell block row

Nah man I didn't want the chorus right here
I wanna throw that right down there you know
That bassline

Its like yayo, meao? weights and scales
It don't mean shit when you're
Sitting in the county jail
Is it my turn to tell the tale
Of how I got popped and how
My lawyer f'inta get me out
On the slight spot cell block
My homies give me love
Some here for having gats
Some here for selling drugs
Sometimes you do your shit
And ain't no second tries
Look around there's hella motherfuckas
That I recognize
Oh, what's up man, I'm back again
But, it's a temporary situation
Taking weekend vacation
Government incaceration
I call myself working on a pay hike
They calling me working on my third strike
Psycyh, I can't go forward
And motherfuckas can't ignore it
Cos all my peoples on parole
In the pen or gotta warrant
So, it's some shit I done leaped in
Damn another santa rita weekend
Just sitting up on the top bunk
Watching the cell block row