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lupe fiasco - prisoner 1 & 2 lyrics

[produced by moez’art]

[prisoner 1]

[intro: prison answering machine]
pre-paid collect call from (censor)
an inmate at (censor) correctional center
this call is subject to recording and monitoring
to accept charges, press 1
to refuse charges, press 2
if you would like to permanently block your number
from receiving calls from this facility, press 6
for balance and rate quotes, press 7 (b-tton press)
thank you for using securus
you may start the conversation now

[fela kuti]
the king
when you’re king of african music you’re the king
because music is the king of all professions
(n.u. music)

[verse 1]
best laid plan, make a mess, made
d-mnation, let’s play hands, sans spades
that’s without, a boycott and a sit-out
afro-black pick in with a fist out
from the “welcome home” to the kick out
reach into a rabbit, pull a trick out
preacher preaching to a f-ggot with his d-ck out
hard times call for armed time, hmm
sick, sick, sick eyes from the nose pressure
police snip zip ties on the protesters
six wives in the fry of a molester
met him at a caviar bar out in odessa
dirty needles breaking all the old records
a hundred hoes, one shovel and some old treasure
ole zeke use t–th as a gold tester
finger rolls, finger waves, closet full of old leathers
old sweaters, old boots, that’s a whole suit for some cold weather
new sale, two l’s and some old letters
now he doing double life, while she lead a double life
man, he need another wife
new approach might help a n-gga bowl better
new hoes might help a n-gga hold together
or will the new lane lead em’ to the same pen?
and the hunger strike in em’ to the same tin

[hook 1: lupe fiasco & nikki jean]
love is looking over various errors
and hate is habitually accelerating terror
everywhere, but the mural
i just wanna be collected when i call god d-mn
i don’t wanna be accepted; not as all as i am
visitor, visitor, prisoner, prisoner, land

[verse 2]
getting slammed from the protest, no food
force fed him like ob with a nose tube
visions say consult the yogi with the gold shoes
with the rollie going bowling for the old school
(yeah) i need more for the michaels
that’s a loss for the cl-ss and a score for the rifles
three hots and a cot and some cops
trying to find dinosaurs in the bible
it’s all quiet in the jailhouse
then they ride in to find the empty cells out
they was looking for the swords
they was looking for the swords
i’m just looking at they feet cause i’m looking for the lord
looking in the library, looking at the law
10 years deep, now i’m looking at the bar
claim sovereignty cause i’m bunkin’ with the moors
they degenerate, they ain’t looking at the game
they just looking at the scores, they be putting on my books
cause i’m looking at the stars, trade a shank for some crank
now i’m looking at a war, bgf got the yard
ab got the kitchen, snitches on pc
m&m on a mission but c.o.’s got the prison
god got us all, god set us free
god is the key, but the guards got the doors

[verse 3]
punching on the gl-ss
scared that some k!ller might f-ck him in the -ss
staff getting rigid, wasn’t gon’ take away the visits
segregate n-ggas by theyself and make ’em stay with it
wicked, swung the shank around on a mop string
they had to pull him out the cell with a swat team
that’s a cop team
they sent h-lla cops to stop, the helicopteriiiing…
man, he’d thought that he’d fly away
like a kite, take flight, like a letter on a string
like propellers on a wing (but the kite was the key)
they made electric chairs for his dying days
last meals, no appeals for him to try and stay
on death row like suge and the late pac
maybe he could dig a tunnel outta a block
and wear gloves for the razor-wired gate top
scared thugs going crazy in a caged box
looking at the world through the tv
and they gone, rapping over beats from the tabletops
ay! that’s how it is in a police state
when your life is just a number and release date
when you’re rehabilitated so correctly
and let’s hope that’s how you’re living when you’re set free

[prisoner 2]

[intro: prison answering machine]
to accept charges, press 1
to refuse charges, press 2
if you would like to permanently block your number
from receiving calls from this facility, press 6
for balance and rate quotes, press 7 (b-tton press)
thank you for using securus
you may start the conversation now

[bridge: ayesha jaco]
the orange wings of the new jim crow
are dyed klansman sheets and court papers
dreadlocks nooses hang from his neck as the new jim crow
corporations feed him seeds yet unborn
he’ll be captured by maya in a ruby-encrusted cage
i see the light at the end of the tunnel
and answers that i leave in empty pages to be written
where is your pen? the new jim crow
(the new jim crow, the new jim crow, crow, crow, crow, crow)

[verse 1]
they sell they souls, they sell their selves
they ain’t twelve, they old, n-ggas old as h-ll
old as jail, old as cells
sold so much salt, ain’t no more salt on the shelves
you a prisoner too, you living here too
you just like us, til’ your shift get through
you could look like us, you know sh-t get through
you should be in cuffs like us, you should get strike two
you should get like life, you should get like woo!
you should get that twice, you should get refused
the open road, that’s no parole, and no control
over your own soul, so control
your own remote control that your folks can hold

[hook 2]
you better watch these n-ggas (en garde)
if it was up to me, i would never unlock these n-ggas
wouldn’t rehabilitate, man, i would just box these n-ggas
and throw away the key
i’d throw away the key like the coast guard watching me
i’d throw away the keys
i’d throw away the keys, i’d throw away the keys
you better watch these n-ggas (en garde)
if it was up to me, i would never unlock these n-ggas
wouldn’t rehabilitate, man, i would just box these n-ggas
and throw away the key
i’d throw away the key like the coast guard watching me
i’d throw away the keys
i’d throw away the keys, i’d throw away the keys
you better watch these n-ggas (en garde)

[verse 2]
5th year with the doc
do you see what’s the c.o. see?
robocop opt to his c-o-p
three hots and a c-o-t
lived in a small town, his whole life
never left, soundin’ like the hole, right?
either working at the prison, or it’s no lights
in the system working with the police
in the prison stripping n-ggas phone rights
got a malice, on the other side of the bars
watching n-ggas get smart, watching n-ggas get strong
watching n-ggas get home, he jail us
but deep down he jealous
with each sweep down, he tell us
with each beat down, he help us
wrong one gon’ knock his -ss out though
it’s why he gotta lock all the n-ggas out for
warden told the boy he better calm down
step back from the brink and put the bomb down
but how the whole world in your palm sound?
it’s why they treat n-ggas like sh-t
writing raps to the taps
keep the face mask on ’em, these n-ggas might spit

- lupe fiasco lyrics

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