[conversations in a prison facility]

[Verse 1]
Yo, little Khadejah pops is locked, he wanna pop the lock
But prison ain't nothin but a private stock
And she be dreamin 'bout his date of release
She hate the police
But loved by her grandma who hugs and kisses her
Her father's a political prisoner, free Fred
Son of a Panther that the government shot dead
Back in 12-4-1969
4 o clock in the mornin, it's terrible but it's fine
Cuz Fred Hampton jr., looks just like him
Walks just like him, talks just like him
And it might be frightenin,
Ain't No Need lyrics

IMx is back again
So everybody run and tell a friend
LDB, Bat, Romeo
They're three bad brothers 'bout to run the show
IMx is back again
Yo', B-A-T, won't you bring it in

Listen, don't you hate it when people be hatin' on
what you do
It's always a
 the feds and the snitches
See him organize the gang, brothers and sisters
So he had to be framed yo, you know how the game go
18 years because the 5-0 said so
They said he set a fire to a Arab store
But he ignited the minds of the young black and poor

HOOK:
Behind enemy lines, my niggas is cellmates
Most of the youth never escape the jail fate
Super maximum camps will advance they game plan
To keep us in the hands of the man locked up

(Hello?)
Collect call from Ness
(Where are you?)
Yo shit is crazy boo, I miss you
(Have you been alright?)
Yo, can you put some
Come On lyrics


[Verse 1:]
where my niggaz at, it's play it raw time baby
load up the guns guerilla war time baby
light up the blunts, light up the block time dawg
choppers with drums, ozzee's, and glock time dawg
whoever he with, they better stay cause they to nice<
 money in my commisary?

[Verse 2]
Little Kenny been smokin lucy since he was 12
Now he 25 locked up wit a L
They call him triple K, cuz he killed 3 niggas
Another ghetto child got turned into a killa
His pops was a Vietnam veteran on heroin
Used like a pawn by these white North Americans
Mama couldn't handle the stress so went crazy
Grandmama had to raise the baby
Just a young boy, born to a life of poverty
Hustlin, robbery, whatever brung the paper home
Carried the chrome like a blind man hold a cane
Tattoos all over his chest so you could know his name
But y'a
Something Wrong lyrics

another night another town another gig another day of f.r. asking what the frig? another stupid girl another fucked up little world now i'm out of cigarettes another 15 hour drive through nowhereland another 27 bucks into the band another stupid world another fucked up little girl a
ll know how the game go
Deez kicked in the front door and guess who they came for
A young nigga headed for the pen, coulda been, shoulda been
Never see the hood again

HOOK 2X

[spanish speaking]
cuando yo llamo, como t? no me quieres escuchar
No he visto mis hijos, mi mujer, no me mandan retratos, 
no tengo dinero. Estoy aqu? jod?o en la c?rcel met?o!!!

[Outro: repeat 2X]
You aint gotta be locked up to be in prison
Look how we livin
30,000 niggas a day, up in the bing, standin routine
They put is in a box just like our life on the block
Behind enemy lines