Luyện nghe bài hát Jail Shit

(Sean Price)
Who this? Price, groovy shit
a body cop out to a two to six
Less the charge, yo, don't stress the sarge
That's my girl pops, why you think she the God?
Weed and dope, you need to smoke
For the kids, netas, triple b's and
Five Percent niggaz, aiyo, God
in ya hand, trynna get a damn piece, god
Ain't nothin' to do, but pull out ya piece, god
Dig in they face, until you it to piece, god
Here are some things, wrong, fearing no things
Set it off for the German, do a in the bing
Either grow dredlocks, did a bid in the
You them head bop, turned queer in the bing
You should hang it up, pa, can't this stuff
But wait, pops died, go to wake in

(Chorus: Rock)
You home to the streets, niggaz raising hell
Fightin', cuttin', it's the same as jail
Only the grimey get over, ain't no bail
Get torn at the frame, if ya is frail

(Sean Price)
I hope and pray my first born, be to parole
Tie it up, liftin' weights, playin' with stones
I'm tired of things, tired of the riots and
Tired of the jack mac, and ten
When I home, ma, I sware to God, I'ma change
But when I, come home, you the God won't change
I'm bluffin' for real, girl you the fuck is the deal
Soon as I touchdown, I need to puff on the
my first floor, pa, never focused, free
But corner violation for weed
As the cop escort me, as I to a cell
With a smile, but inside I'm feeling as hell
Man, I'm 29 on 30, kid
be getting locked up for no dirty dick

(Chorus)

(Sean Price)
My is in danger, my son set it off on the emon
being easy, how the fuck, can you be calm
Looking bad, son, niggaz deep as hell
Realizing all my motherfuckin' is frail
It's me, Killa, Rum Dick, Psyche and Will
Dee and a crackhead Mike from the ville
If I die, yo I'm out with knives in they grill
All my motherfuckin' I've been real, yo

(Chorus 2X)