Luyện nghe bài hát Jail Shit

(Sean Price)
Who this? Sean Price, groovy
Catch a cop out to a two to six
Less the charge, yo, even stress the sarge
That's my girl pops, why you think she the God?
Weed and dope, anything you to smoke
For the kids, netas, triple b's and
Percent niggaz, aiyo, peace God
Knife in ya hand, 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 year in the
Either grow dredlocks, did a bid in the
You blow head bop, turned queer in the bing
You hang it up, pa, can't take this stuff
But wait, pops died, go to wake in

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

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

(Chorus)

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

(Chorus 2X)