A Fillmo' nigga doin time up in the county
Write me off the block sellin rocks like bounty
Send me up to Bruno north with the M.A.
Nineteen hour lockdown waitin for my court date
I'm not trippin I guess I'm gonna lounge around
Thinkin about my mama and my homies from the Moe-Town
I'm gonna be there so ya know I gots ta open shop
I love my homies and the record I'm about to drop
And if a fool want funk I'm teachin lessons
Never on the phone wit a ho I'm never stressin, hungh
Mama told me there'd be days like this
Thinkin about the money and the days I'd miss
It's 12 o'clock now it's time to go out to the yard
Watchin the SA's and niggas tryin to act hard
Keep to myself ya know get my yokes
Walk through the yard say what's up to my folks
Me and Celly Cel in the cuts doin curls
Fags on the grass doin ballerina twirls
I had on Filas I didn't want to get em dirty
Guards on the top watchin wit a 30/30
Jay cats runnin around yellin and tweakin
Watchin Soul Train every single weekend
Niggas talkin shit no one down cuz they scary
Tryin to buy protection wit tres and commisaries
But you know I'm no punk so ya know I kept a weapon
If ya know I'm right for gettin shank then keep steppin
Now that I'm solo you won't be the stew find(?)
But if you cross me nigga put your number on the line
When I get out you know I got a choice bro
Go to the set or go to the studio
I prefer studio cuz jail just ain't me
Makin hella tapes like 4-Tay and J.T.
Rippin up the stage with the felony (felony)
The niggas checkin folders that's what they tellin me (tellin me)
But I'm still in jail doin time waitin for my court date
Slap on the Rolex give me my tear date
I know my time is short but I really don't know when
Niggas younger than me gettin shot straight to the pen
But I keeps my cool drinkin coffee in a noodle cup
30 days later stone lets roll it up
November twenty-somethin thank God I'm still livin
Released to my folks tomorrow is Thanksgiving
Go to my house take off the Rolex
Hug and kiss moms okay now what's next
Meet J.T. jump in the shower
Moms when he calls tell him meet me in an hour
One hour past I think I hear the doorbell
So used to hearin keys that I really can't tell
It's my nigga like I figure the Bigga the Bigga Figga
So now it's time to go
But you don't hear me though
Jumped in the bucket and jetted to the studio (studio)
Seff The Gaffla – Locked Up Lyrics
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