Mislaid plan make a mess made
Damnation, let's play hands and 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 faggot with his dick out
Hard times call for armed time
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
Old Zeke use teeth 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 nigga bowl better
New hoes might help a nigga hold together
Or will the new lane lead em' to the same pen
And the hunger strike in em' to the same tin
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 damn
I don't wanna' be accepted; not as all as I am
Visitor, visitor, prisoner, prisoner, land
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
I need more for the Michaels
That's a loss for the class, 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 jail-house
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, because I'm bunkin' with the morons
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
AV got the kitchen snitches on PC
Eminem on a mission, but CO's got the prison
God got us all, God set us free
God is the key, but the guards got the doors
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 damn
I don't wanna' be accepted; not as all as I am
Visitor, visitor, prisoner, prisoner, land
Punching on the glass, stare at some killer
Might fuck him in the ass
Staff getting rigid, wasn't gonna take away the visits
Segregate niggas 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 hella cops, to stop, the helicoptering
Man, he thought that he'd fly away, like a kite, take flight
Like a letter on a string, like propellers on a wing
But they can't find 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 out of 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
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 damn
I don't wanna' be accepted; not as all as I am
Visitor, visitor, prisoner, prisoner, land

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