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    phone rings twice*
    (arabic voice) You have a collect call phone call
    In a New York state correctional facility
    Press five five to accept, or hang up to decline

    Verse One:

    Whattup gangstas, how tha fuck ya'll feel
    We keepin it real, and hold on tight to your steel
    Let them caps peel, one by one
    And laugh while the nig run
    He shoulda been packin his gun, now he gone
    Cuz he got slippin like an old bitch
    in the wet staircase shaft, now watch his man snitch
    to tha police, but them no worry me son
    I ain't trying to get back it'd be my third felony
    Pataki he want to see us, criminals fry
    in the electric chair, but my spirit will never die
    A true project nigga, I won't hesitate
    to pull the BLAOW, peace to all busy niggaz
    One love y'all stay safe
    And fuck you, Officer Brown, peace to that nigga Case

    Chorus: repeat 4X

    WhOO WhOO
    Jiggy comin, fuck tha police y'all, cuz I ain't runnin

    Verse Two:

    All ya'll police can suck my diiiiiiick
    and Mayor Gulliani, that cracker boy full of shit
    I represent, for all my niggaz doing time
    And those who got beat up and killed by the swine
    Beo-tches, them porks, beotch
    Them think them bad, cuz they carry, glocks and badges
    And when I'm pimpin in my green Acura
    They pull me over, like I stole it from some nigga
    But all my paperwork is legit
    Registered insured in my name, so ya'll pigs can shit
    Police be cockin me like I'm some dime piece
    a G from the street so I can never turn beast


    Verse Three:

    There's crooked cops, that's why they get shot by tha minute
    If you were criminal and you ready to represent, kid
    blaow, that's how I like it, word is bond
    My hair ain't blonde my eyes ain't blue so now I'm dead boo
    It's on like this is war, all my brothers in the hood
    I gots fam that's constant understand I wish they would
    but it's all good, peace to my niggaz locked in jail
    Bushy Kam, Killa Kane, Fogey Foo, and Ale
    Down Low Wrecka and Junior be on storm
    Keep your headz up, and keep it real cuz you know I'm gonna
    And for my niggaz doin six months
    I see yo ass next summer, word up


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