Be Strong

Haha!

If it ain't one thing, it's always gonna be a muthafuckin' nother. Word to my grandaddy

I'm gonna let this beat ride for about two bars, then get back at ya

I'm on a payphone, standing in a holding cell

They took my shirt and my shoes, and I'm cold as hell

Every now and then you gotta spend the night in jail

But I know the homeboys gonna make my bail

8:30 in the morning, in front of CJC

Fuck a bunch of breakfast, take me to the weed!

I just need to blow some trees

Even if only momentary, it feels good to be free

Holding my little girl in front of the big screen

Making love to my lady--these are the big things

Spending time with my granny and blowing with Dave

Contemplating every mistake I've ever made

I should have sipped more lemonade and sat in the shade

That seemed so secondary to trying to get paid

And I'm only afraid of coming up short

So I'm gonna get money every day until I go back to court

Every day that I'm gone is one I won't be gone

They can't hold me down forever and I'm gonna be home

In no time at all, it won't be long

I just need everybody back home to be strong

The telephone makes my time go by so slow

The streets talk--if something happens I'm gonna know

People want to come and see me, but I tell them not to

Talking to them through that glass just breaks my heart, dude

I write a lot of letters, I get a lot of mail

People telling me they can't wait for me to get out of jail

I miss Mikayla, I miss my girl

But I try not to think about the outside world

Talk spades and dominoes, Psalms and Proverbs

I seem to find peace in God's word

Because he's the only real friend that I got in here

Even with nothing, I got a lot in here

I'd be much happier if I was not in here

But hey, I could never get shot in here!

They say it's just three hots and a cot in here

But I got half my muthafuckin squad in here

They got razor wire fifteen feet high

We eat in groups of five with plastic knives

Plastic forks, plastic spoons

See our kids on Sunday afternoons

Collect call to my mama, send me a box

CDs, magazines, drawers and socks

People get the box, everybody gets locked

Phone calls, television, everything just stops

Food here's horrible, conditions are deplorable

Grown men crying echoes through the corridors

More and more I miss my gal

The camraderie and fellowship of my pals

When I get out, I'm gonna kiss the ground

And I just can't wait to hit the town

Kobe Steakhouse

Just the thought makes me want to break out

People ask me, if I could go back, if I could do something different, if I had the chance, what would I do?

I tell them I don't believe in that if shit, because if my daddy was a better card player, him and my mama would still be together

All my people locked down, hold it down