Oct. 24, 2013


From Redemption by Ray Jones (author's profile)


Wrote: 2011
Song: Konviktz
Album: Keep It Gutta

Pissed off, kuz i should've known
dey would snitch, 2 da laws,
n have deze foolz, kick n my door,
stikkn gunz, 2 my skull....
As dey escort me, out da tilt,
wit a mugg, on my face,
news reportaz, be taken picturez,
befo my lawyer, shoo dem away....
Locked up, 4 a couple monthz,
gettn visitz, n jail,
haven my batch, take care of thangz,
bekuz my momz, isn't here....
N dey wishn, i go away,
4 a long ass tyme
so it givz u, sukaz a chance,
tryna reclaim, da spotlite....
After hearn me, droppn bombz,
everynite, on yo box,
its everynite, dey at my cell,
wantn 2 hear me, go off....
Recognizen, my face n paperz,
alwayz up, n da newz,
showin foolz, how a playa ball,
spittn deze, jailhouse tunez,
Receiven kitez, at mail call,
befo i rol, up n jourt,
who be all wishin me, good luck,
as i chief, on newsportz....
telln da judge, i plead not guilty.
alwayz pakkn, my tool,
he vie me, a couple yearz,
[?] i akted, a fool.......

Chorus [?] Konviktz need love too....

Everynite, on my phone trippin,
droppn shyt, 4 my peepz,
hearn da pigz, say cell search
n i know, da routine....
Hiden shyt, like im n da world,
messed up, off dat bomb,
telln my batch, ill be home soon,
but she already, burnt off....
Funkn around, wit someone else,
n i aint even trippn,
kuz i learnd, from bak n da dayz,
u cant trust, no pigeonz....
Who be dissn, a yung dude,
when you don't, got grip,
dey burn off, wit da next dude,
day got samthan, 2 give 'em....
N lookn down at, my police record,
im going str8, 2 da hole,
n still treaten me, like a menace,
not tryna give me parole....
Catchn casez, 4 stayn down,
4 da good, dat im from
stompn foolz, who be disrespektn,
soon as dey, roll open doorz....
N not gettn, no lover at chow,
eatn som, uncooked shyt,
n a hustla, can't hit up sto
kuz dey got me, on restriction....
Evan da proz, datz on my nutz,
be askn me, what it do,
marryn all, deze fake ass laws,
n still down, wit dis good.....

Poorn own brew, 4 my soul jahz gone,
n smoke a spliff, wit yo hommy,
n dont trip, kuz we gon' squab,
after i finish, my forty....
4 dem yearz, i was locked up,
n u didn't, even write,
haven 2 put, da pistol up,
n start pakkn, da knife.....
Shankn foolz, gettn n som riotz
who got beef, wit my squad,
dat be snitchn, on what im doing,
kujz i done won, a coin toss....
Of model honeyz, n unform,
wantn 2 see me, get paid,
so every month, on my jail account,
im neva broke, n dis game....
As dey flash me, dey thong pantyz,
choosen a playa, who built,
n money stackd, like da Eiffel Tower
kickn street, knowledge shyt....
Now im out, of da racist pen,
i gotta get, n position,
of gettn mo' endz, n bad ass pigeon
down 4 a gee, out of prison
As im writen, my hommyz gone,
shootn dem money & pixx,
kuz i know when dey touchdown,
dey gonna help me, flip briz....
Puttn my hood, back on da map,
n calln out, all u phonyz,
who think dey bad, on da microphone
after i get bak, rolln.......


Replies Replies feed

Other posts by this author


Get notifications when new letters or replies are posted!

Posts by Ray Jones : RSS email me
Comments on “Konviktz”: RSS email me
Featured posts: RSS email me
All Between the Bars posts: RSS