I just wanna put that shit down
The way that shit was (OK)
Y'know what I'm sayin?
N***a we used to be up in that motherfucker
You know what I'm sayin?
N***a.. used to call Black Tone collect and shit (um hum)
Y'know what I'm sayin?
I call a house collect, even the shop, you know? (yeah)
Y'know what I'm sayin? "It's Dejuan
Ni... OK, yes"
Y'know what I'm sayin? (right)
Everytime, it never fail, dog (yeah)
Like, like, homie, I'm hurtin' man
N***a, I'm, n***a, I, tsh
Don't worry about nothin' Royal-Roc
Don't worry about nothin' n***a
And man, I used to beat on walls, man, bunks
Just check this, man, just check this shit out
It's about the County Jail and shit homie
Just check this shit out
*humming*
You know, shit like that
Y'know, n***a just beat on the table and shit (mm-hmm)
Man, man

*humming* I wanna go home
I said I do, yes I wanna, baby, I wanna come home
I'm gettin' tired, of this County
And I, depend on tha ho
And then I, got my ski and seed number, 8s-9-6-5-9 fo' sho'
Yeah, yes I wanna, said I, I wanna go home
Because I got accessed to DJ Quik, and ???
Pomona, town where the sea bird lake, come from and that's fo' sho'
Let me tell you this rap 'bout the county jail
When I, lost my hope, c'mon
*humming* Check it out...
Let me flow, like a butterfly on cruise control
From the L.A. county jail, to the Pen, to parole
With a flow, that's so serious-izay
So give a big bow wow, to Suga Free
One more dog and French braid
Return to the lab to reclaim my fame
And send my bitches to the corner
N***a, ain't nothin' changed
But I'ma handcuff yo' ass to the sound
And chastise n***as that's out of touch
And bitches that's out of bounds
I'm steppin' out the Pen
Bailin' in a cloud of smoke
Nizi tizi, ?? ?I had to dive on 'em? loc
Now we gon' make or make 'em clap to this
Now grab yo' gat, smoke a sac
And drink some Cognac and jack to this
Both be on the lookout for PPD
Them black and whites, them disco lights and that 3rd strike
Cause I'll be damned if I go back to the Pen
And violate my parole, with a ho, and do some time again
Back in the County with my hair gettin' thinner
Because I'm stressin' about my bitch and I wonder who's goin' in her
And I'm knowin' that the tramp ain't shit
But in the LA County Jail I'mma need that bitch
I'm on a roof, up in 95 hun and I'm broke at that
I'm creepin' on n***as, sweepin'
That's for goin' with that money sac
And G's hittin' n***as up on from where they from
Ready to roll, bustas and marks up out of 95 hun
The tension in the air is gettin sharp and quiet
So put yo' hand on yo' shit
And get ready to scrap cause it's another riot
Now I'm scrappin' with my hair half braided
Because a n***a stole some candy from a *edited*
So me Ray Dogg, and Loko White from Tray-57
That n***a TC from EC and 8-Ball from HT
The red rags was in from Tree Tops, Tony Lane
With Nookie Baby John from Fruit Town and Pat
Together we left some motherfucker stuck
Some snitch hollered "one time! they comin' to gaffle some n***as up!"
Crips and bloods on they way to the hole
Because we took off on them motherfuckers and left they face swole
Damn, now they feed a n***a juke balls
No action on the phones, no visits
Man I can't wait to go home
Man, Yes I wanna, said I, I wanna go home
I really do, yes I wanna, I wanna go home
Mama I ain't really happy here, I really really wanna come home
If it wasn't for, you and my sister, I'd be straight all alone
Ooh, yes I wanna, said I, I wanna go home
I really do baby, yes I wanna, baby, I wanna go home
Clue Dogg, I know you want to, baby, I wanna come home
I really, miss ?? doggs, baby, now she gonna be all alone
Love to move, n***a won't you come on home
Love to move... *Fades*