Santa Rita Weekend - The Coup

Stepping up out of my cell

With sandals and county blues handcuffs and shackles

Finna ride up on that grey goose

Coming out of a case

Cos I was strapped with my nines

But see these drawers that I’m wearing?

Muthafuckas ain’t mine, nigga

Excuse me, homie, can I hit that mista?

Niggas rollin' up indo outta toilet tissue

Ain’t this a bitch, some niggas are scared to hit it

Fool I’m with it

So phone check, nigga get the fuck off the line

Before I stick your ass in here and have to do some more time, player

Want to give me the strap cos I was strapped with a Glock

I guess I got to sit my black ass right there and get shot see

Fool

But fool it ain’t no going out

See I keep scoring clout

And show these niggas what im all about

See niggas screaming from cell to cell

Snitches don’t tell a party in hell a Santa Rita county jail

Everytime I turn around everytime I look

Im considered to be a murderer a crook

Ali shook the world im gonna shake my homies hand

Three in the morning dressed in blue once again

My size ten rest upon the concrete floor

Heads bob real slow to a freestyle flow

I dont know this masterplan can’t understand

Why there’s more black folks in jail than japenese in japan

But err my eyes pink

Sitting upon that bunk

Thinking about them tickets

Choking up on that funk chunk

Wit' this nigga from my commisary bank

Sunday monday came fool im out this holding tank

But it makes me think the systems treating us like a merry go round

One day you’re chilling at home

The next you headed downtown

Peace to my hounds in the county in the pen

Once again its a santa rita weekend

Just sitting up on the top bunk

Watching the cell block row

Seven zeroh seven case motherfucking number two eleven

Stressing manifestin tore up from the floor

Penelope’s gots me on the floor

Accused of robbing a store

Who you know nigga naybody?

Besides which I refuse to answer any questions

Without the advisory of my lawyer mr baker

Perming?

of this wall I make

Let me go po po im innocent

Mistaken right suppose all blacks look alike

Thank you kindly sir

You need to practice your professional better

Never run up on me again

Bust a pattern be off into the wind

Back up off me beyatch

Just the other day my cronies shot me a kite

E-40 baby boy

You becoming hella tight

Clayback, Vacaville up there by Reno, Rita, Quentin, Folsom, Chino

Just sitting up on the top bunk

Watching the cell block row

Nah man I didn’t want the chorus right here

I wanna throw that right down there you know

That bassline

Its like yayo, meao?

weights and scales

It don’t mean shit when you’re sitting in the county jail

Is it my turn to tell the tale

Of how I got popped and how my lawyer f’inta get me out

On the slight spot cell block my homies give me love

Some here for having gats

Some here for selling drugs

Sometimes you do your shit

And ain’t no second tries

Look around there’s hella motherfuckas that I recognize

Oh, what’s up man, I’m back again

But its a temporary situation

Taking weekend vacation

Government incaceration

I call myself working on a pay hike

They calling me working on my third strike

Psycyh, I can’t go forward

And motherfuckas can’t ignore it

Cos all my peoples on parole

In the pen or gotta warrant

So it’s some shit I done leaped in

Damn another santa rita weekend

Just sitting up on the top bunk

Watching the cell block row