Let's go fellas shower time's up in five minutes

* sounds of prison bars slamming shut *

Get those feet off the table whaddyou think this is home?



(This is bullshit yo son let me get a ciggarette)

(I'ma go.. back to my cell and read)



That's it five more minutes and that's it

Back to work fellas back to work!



[Dead Prez]

Yo lil' Kadeija pops his locks he wanna pop the lock

but prison ain't nuttin but a private stock

And she be dreamin bout his date of release, she hate the police

but loved by her grandma who hugs and kisses her

Her father's a political prisoner, Free Fred

Son of a Panther that the government shot dead

back in 12/4, 1969

Four o'clock in the mornin, it's terrible but it's fine, cause

Fred Hampton Jr. looks just like him

Walks just like jim, talks just like him

And it might be frightenin the Feds and the snitches

to see him organize the gang brothers and sisters

So he had to be framed yo, you know how the game go

Eighteen years, because the five-oh said so

They said he set a fire to a a-rab store

but he ignited the minds of the young black and poor



Behind enemy lines, my niggaz is cellmates

Most of the youths never escape the jail fates

Super maximum camps will advance they gameplan

to keep us in the hands of the man, locked up



(Hello?) Collect call from Nes

(How are you?) Yo shit is crazy Boo

(Have you been alright?) You know I miss you

(I feel lonely lonely lonely) Yo woman..

can you put some money in my commisary?



Lord can't even smoke a loosey since he was twelve

925 locked up with a L

They call him triple K, cause he killed three niggaz

Another ghetto child got turned into a killer

His pops was a Vietnam veteran on heroin

Used like a pawn by these white North Americans

Momma couldn't handle the stress and went crazy

Grandmomma had to raise the baby

Just a young boy, born to a life of poverty

Hustlin, robbery, whatever brung the paper home

Carried the chrome like a blind man holdin cane

Tattoes all over his chest, so you can know his name

But y'all know how the game go

D's kicked in the front door, and guess who they came fo'?

A young nigga headed for the pen, coulda been

shoulda been, never see the hood again



Behind enemy lines, my niggaz is cellmates

Most of the youths never escape the jail fates

Super maximum camps will advance they gameplan

to keep us in the hands of the man, locked up



Behind enemy lines, my niggaz is cellmates

Most of the youths never escape the jail fates

Super maximum camps will advance they gameplan

to keep us in the hands of the man, locked up



* speaking in spanish *



You ain't gotta be locked up to be in prison

Look how we livin, thirty thousand niggaz a day

up in the bing, standard routine

They put us in a box just like our life on the blocks

(behind enemy lines)

You ain't gotta be locked up to be in prison

Look how we livin, thirty thousand niggaz a day

up in the bing, standard routine

They put us in a box just like our life on the blocks

(behind enemy lines