| 歌曲 | Jail Shit |
| 歌手 | Sean Price |
| 歌手 | Rock |
| 专辑 | Monkey Barz |
| 作曲 : Aguilar, Bush, Price | |
| (Sean Price) | |
| Who this? Sean Price, groovy shit | |
| Catch a body cop out to a two to six | |
| Less the charge, yo, don't even stress the sarge | |
| That's my girl pops, why you think she bless the God? | |
| Weed and dope, anything you need to smoke | |
| For the kids, netas, triple b's and lokes | |
| Five Percent niggaz, aiyo, peace God | |
| Knife in ya hand, trynna get a damn piece, god | |
| Ain't nothin' left to do, but pull out ya piece, god | |
| Dig in they face, until you tear it to piece, god | |
| Here are some things, over wrong, fearing no things | |
| Set it off for the German, do a year in the bing | |
| Either grow dredlocks, did a bid in the bing | |
| You them blow head bop, turned queer in the bing | |
| You should hang it up, pa, can't take this stuff | |
| But wait, pops died, go to wake in cuffs | |
| (Chorus: Rock) | |
| You come home to the streets, niggaz raising hell | |
| Fightin', cuttin', damn it's the same as jail | |
| Only the grimey get over, ain't no making bail | |
| Get torn at the frame, if ya frame is frail | |
| (Sean Price) | |
| I hope and pray my first born, be next to parole | |
| Tie it up, liftin' weights, playin' chess with stones | |
| I'm tired of things, tired of the riots and gangs | |
| Tired of the jack mac, caliberas and ten | |
| When I come home, ma, I sware to God, I'ma change | |
| But when I, come home, you know the God won't change | |
| I'm bluffin' for real, girl you know the fuck is the deal | |
| Soon as I touchdown, I need to puff on the real | |
| Bang my first floor, pa, never focused, free | |
| But corner violation for smoking weed | |
| As the cop escort me, as I toot to a cell | |
| With a smile, but inside I'm feeling stupid as hell | |
| Man, I'm 29 going on 30, kid | |
| Can't be getting locked up for no dirty dick | |
| (Chorus) | |
| (Sean Price) | |
| My life is in danger, my son set it off on the emon | |
| Niggaz being easy, how the fuck, can you be calm | |
| Looking bad, son, them niggaz deep as hell | |
| Realizing all my motherfuckin' peeps is frail | |
| It's just me, Killa, Rum Dick, Psyche and Will | |
| Dee and a crackhead named Mike from the ville | |
| If I die, yo I'm going out with knives in they grill | |
| All my motherfuckin' life I've been real, yo | |
| (Chorus 2X) |
| zuò qǔ : Aguilar, Bush, Price | |
| Sean Price | |
| Who this? Sean Price, groovy shit | |
| Catch a body cop out to a two to six | |
| Less the charge, yo, don' t even stress the sarge | |
| That' s my girl pops, why you think she bless the God? | |
| Weed and dope, anything you need to smoke | |
| For the kids, netas, triple b' s and lokes | |
| Five Percent niggaz, aiyo, peace God | |
| Knife in ya hand, trynna get a damn piece, god | |
| Ain' t nothin' left to do, but pull out ya piece, god | |
| Dig in they face, until you tear it to piece, god | |
| Here are some things, over wrong, fearing no things | |
| Set it off for the German, do a year in the bing | |
| Either grow dredlocks, did a bid in the bing | |
| You them blow head bop, turned queer in the bing | |
| You should hang it up, pa, can' t take this stuff | |
| But wait, pops died, go to wake in cuffs | |
| Chorus: Rock | |
| You come home to the streets, niggaz raising hell | |
| Fightin', cuttin', damn it' s the same as jail | |
| Only the grimey get over, ain' t no making bail | |
| Get torn at the frame, if ya frame is frail | |
| Sean Price | |
| I hope and pray my first born, be next to parole | |
| Tie it up, liftin' weights, playin' chess with stones | |
| I' m tired of things, tired of the riots and gangs | |
| Tired of the jack mac, caliberas and ten | |
| When I come home, ma, I sware to God, I' ma change | |
| But when I, come home, you know the God won' t change | |
| I' m bluffin' for real, girl you know the fuck is the deal | |
| Soon as I touchdown, I need to puff on the real | |
| Bang my first floor, pa, never focused, free | |
| But corner violation for smoking weed | |
| As the cop escort me, as I toot to a cell | |
| With a smile, but inside I' m feeling stupid as hell | |
| Man, I' m 29 going on 30, kid | |
| Can' t be getting locked up for no dirty dick | |
| Chorus | |
| Sean Price | |
| My life is in danger, my son set it off on the emon | |
| Niggaz being easy, how the fuck, can you be calm | |
| Looking bad, son, them niggaz deep as hell | |
| Realizing all my motherfuckin' peeps is frail | |
| It' s just me, Killa, Rum Dick, Psyche and Will | |
| Dee and a crackhead named Mike from the ville | |
| If I die, yo I' m going out with knives in they grill | |
| All my motherfuckin' life I' ve been real, yo | |
| Chorus 2X |