Luyện nghe bài hát Santa Rita Weekend

Stepping up out of my
Santos and county blues handcuffs and shackles
Gonna ride up on that goose
Coming out of a

'Cause I was strapped with my
see these drawers that I'm wearing
Muthafuckas ain't mine
Excuse me, homie, can I hit mista

blowing up in the while a toilet tissue
Ain't this a bitch some niggas are scared to
Fool, I'm it, so phone check
get the fuck off the line

Before I stick ass in here
And to do some more time player
to give me the strap
'Cause I was strapped a glock

I I got to sit my black ass
Right there and get see fool
But fool, it no going out
See I keep scoring

And show these what I'm all about
See niggas screaming cell to cell
don't tell a party in hell
A Santa county jail

Every time I turn around, time I look
I'm considered to be a murderer, a
Ali shook the world I'm shake my homies hand
Three in the morning, dressed in once again

My size ten rest upon the concrete
Head's bob real to a freestyle flow
I don't know this masterplan, understand
Why more black folks in jail than Japanese in Japan

But err my eyes pink, upon that bunk
Thinking about them tickets, choking up on that funk
a snicker from my commissary bank
Sunday, Monday, came fool I'm out this change

But it me think
The systems treating us a merry go 'round
One day you're chilling at home, the next you headed
Sam peace to my hounds in the in the pen
Once again a Santa Rita weekend

Just up on the top bunk
Watching the block row
Just up on the top bunk
Watching the cell row

zero seven case, motherfucking number two eleven
Stressing manifestin' tore up from the
Penelope's me on the floor
Accused of a store

Who you know anybody?
Besides which I refuse to any questions
Without the of my lawyer Mr. Baker perming?
Of wall I make, let me go po po, I'm innocent

Mistaken right suppose all blacks alike
you, kindly, Sir
You need to practice your better
Never run up on me

Bust a pattern be off the wind, back up off me beyatch
Just the other day my cronies me up high
We warn you, baby boy, you becoming tight
Clayback back a building up there by dreno, Rita, quentin Gino

sitting up on the top bunk
Watching the block row
Just sitting up on the top
Watching the block row

Nah man, I want the chorus right here
I throw that right down there you know that baseline

It's like yeah, me wait two
It don't mean shit when you're in the county jail
Is it my turn to the tale
Of how I got and how my lawyer failed to get me out

On the slight spot cell block my homies me love
Some here for having gacks, some here for selling
Sometimes you do your shit and no second tries
Look around, hell of motherfuckas that I recognize

Oh, up man I'm back again
But it's a temporary
Taking weekend
incarceration

I myself working on a pay hike
They calling me working on my third
Sike I go forward
And motherfuckas ignore it

'Cause all my on parole
In the pen gotta
So it's shit I done leaped in
Damn another Rita weekend

Just up on the top bunk
the cell block row
Just up on the top bunk
the cell block row