spittin and cussin you know im p-ssed, with these iron braclets on my f-ckin
and im headed for the county, with all of you mother f-ckers all around me,
dressed in my original county blue, with my fresh -ss do rag and my rubber
sixth months in a cement bedroom, make friends fast make em f-ckin soon .
five months left and i dont even smoke, ciaggarettes like money, so i guess im
drop two months im down to four, with the homies playin spades on the dirty -ss
chillin with my home boy bruno, hangin out at the rec we was playin uno,
and this crack heads gonna try and take my seat, so i whipped his -ss and i
caught another week.
now im starin at a plastic fork, ’cause the next five days im in the hole.
one month left and im goin kinda thin and theres stubbles on my god d-mn chin
three days good time i guess i lucked out, my time is done let me the f-ck out,
no more talkin my c-ck down,
ill go f-ck me a b-tch, ’cause iæš¦ outta this lockdown, lockdown (echos off)
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