11 santa rita weekend
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Steppin' up out my cell with sandals and county blues
Handcuffs and shackles, finna ride up on that grey goose
Caught another case 'cause I was strapped with my nine
And see these drawers that I'm wearin' motherfuckers ain't mine, nigga
Excuse me homie, can I hit that mister?
Niggas rollin' up indo outta toilet tissue
Ain't this a bitch, some niggas is scared to hit it
Fool, I'm widdit
So phone check nigga, get the fuck off the line
Before I stick your ass in here and have to do some more time, playa
Wanna gimme the strap 'cause I was strapped with the Glock
I guess I got to sit my black ass right there and get shot, see
But fool it ain't no goin' out
See I keeps throwin' clout and show these niggas what I'm all about
See niggas screamin' from cell to cell, snitches don't tell
A party in hell, a Santa Rita county jail
Every time I turn around, every time I look
I'm considered to be a murderer, a crook
Ali shook the world, I'm gonna shake my homie's hand
Three in the mornin' dressed in blue once again
My size ten rest up on the concrete floor
Heads bob real slow to a freestyle flow
I don't know, this master plan, can't understand
Why there's more black folks in jail than Japanese in Japan
But uh, my eyes pan, sittin' up on that bunk
Thinkin' about them tickets, chokin' up on that funk
Jump wit'cha a snicker from my commissary bank
Sunday, Monday came, fool I'm out this holdin' tank
But it makes me think the system treatin' us like a merry-go-round
One day you chillin' at home, the next you headed downtown
Peace to my hounds in the county and the pen
Once again it's a Santa Rita weekend
Just sittin' up on the top bunk
Watchin' the cell block crew
Just sittin' up on the top bunk
Watchin' the cell block crew
Seven, zero, seven, case motherfuckin' number two eleven
Stressin', manifestin', tore up from the floor
Penelope's got me on the floor, accused of robbin' a store
Who do you know nigga? Naybody, besidery
I refuse to answer any questions without the advisory
Of my lawyer Mr. Baker, pervin' off this Boilermaker
Let me go po'-po', I'm 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, beatch
Just the other day my cronies shot me a kite
E-40 baby boy you be comin' hella tight
Clay Bank, Bakersfield and up there by Reno
Rita, Quentin, Folsom, Chino
Just sittin' up on the top bunk
Watchin' the cell block crew
Nah man, I didn't want the chorus right here
I wanted to throw that breakdown in
You know, that bassline
It's like yayo, mayo, weights and scales
It don't mean shit when you sittin' in the county jail
Is it my turn to tell the tale of how I got popped
And how my lawyer finna get me out on the spot?
Slide the cell block, my homies give me love
Some here for havin' gats, some here for sellin' dubs
Sometimes you do your shit and ain't no second tries
Look around, there's hella motherfuckers that I recognize
Oh what's up man, I'm back again but it's a temporary situation
Takin' weekend vacations, government incarceration
I call myself workin' on a pay hike
They callin' me workin' on my third strike
Sike, I can't go for it and motherfuckers can't ignore it
'Cause all my peoples on parole, in the pen, or got a warrant
So it's some shit I done leaked in
Damn, another Santa Rita weekend
Just sittin' up on the top bunk
Watchin' the cell block crew
Just sittin' up on the top bunk
Watchin' the cell block crew