Prisoner 1 & 2 - Lupe Fiasco feat Ayesha Jaco

[Prisoner 1]

Pre-paid collect call from [?], an inmate at [?] correctional center.
This call is subject to recording and monitoring
To accept charges, press 1
To refuse charges, press 2
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[Fela Kuti:]
King... We are kings of African music, we are kings. Because the king of all professions

No music

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 d_ck out
Hard times call for [?] 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
[?] use thief 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

Love is looking over various errors
And hate is habitually accelerating terror
[?] 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


Punching on the glass, stare at some killer
Might f_ck him in the ass
Staff getting rigid, wasn't gonna 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 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


[Prisoner 2]

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To refuse charges, press 2
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[Ayesha Jaco:]
[?] of the new Jim Crow are [?] clansmen, [?], and court papers
Dreadlocks [?] to hang from his neck as new Jim Crow
Corporations feed him seeds yet unborn
He'll be captured by Mya[?], 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) [x2]

They sell they souls
They sell their selves
They ain't twelve, they old
N_ggas old as hell
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 2
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 x2:]
You better watch these n_ggas (un 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) [x3]

Better watch these n_ggas (un guarde)

5th year with the DOC
You can see what's CO see
Robocop opt his COP
3 hots and a C-O-T
Lived in a small town, his whole life
Never left like [?]
Either working at the prison, or it's no lights
In the system working with the pol-ice
In the prison stripping n_ggas for 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 jealous
But deep down he jealous
With each sweep down, he tell us
With each peep down, he help us
Wrong one gon' knock his ass 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 [?] on your knees cause these n_ggas might snap! [?]


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