Parole (Explicit)-DJ Green Lantern/Immortal Technique

Parole - DJ Green Lantern [Intro: Immortal Technique (parole officer)] (980505A) Yeah ni**a what (You made parole) What? (Pack your stuff) The f**k? (And get the f**k out of here) A-haha Aiyyo man, it's about motherf**kin time man Aiyyo G, aiyyo G son, I got my papers man I'm out this motherf**ker! [Immortal Technique] Yeah, I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again Never selling heroin, never selling crack again Don't work for the government coke packagin Don't fire indiscriminate, with the mac again My people are stuck behind glass like a mannequin They pretend to give a f**k, just like the Vatican Second chance, faith based, two-faced Samaritans Every time we come back, they... [record rewinds] I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again Never selling heroin, never selling crack again I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again I'm out of, I'm out of (I'm out this motherf**ker!) Yeah, I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again Never selling heroin, never selling crack again Don't work for the government coke packagin Don't fire indiscriminate, with the mac again My people are stuck behind glass like a mannequin They pretend to give a f**k, just like the Vatican Second chance, faith based, two-faced Samaritans Every time we come back, they keep on cashin in Prison labor, third-world sweatshop comparisons 'Til we kidnap the whole f**kin garrison Yeah, poverty, makes people do, reckless things But corporations do worse to protect they bling Prisons are more, overcrowded than the rap game They say you more likely to go to jail with a black name Freakonomics that I speak through ebonics And f**k Phonics, little niggaz is (Hooked On) chronic But if you on stage with the DEA, as your hype man Don't get yourself locked up, and blame the white man We transformed gangs and criminal enterprises Usin O.G.'s as advisors Before they, send us to war, after they divide us But I won't let 'em use us like Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders My movement's like a jujitsu kata I graduated outta prison, so F**K my alma mater ni**a [Interlude: Immortal Technique (woman)] (Hello?) Yeah yeah, what's up yo? (Hey, how you doin?) Yo, you know what? I just got my papers (you're f**kin lying!) Yo I'm comin home to you, I'll see you in like a day and a half ([screams] Oh my God, I'm so happy! Are you serious?) ([screams] I'm so happy! Are you f**kin serious?) Yeah, I'm dead serious baby, I'm comin home (oh my God!) Put the little blue thing on for me, aight? (You got that baby, yeah!) [Immortal Technique] I'm on parole, and I'll never be alone again F**k this place baby, I'm comin home again Shorty wrapped around me so I'll, never be cold again Never have to knock a ni**a out, for the phone again Prison ain't the place that you find your rite of passage in It's slavery, with nasty food in your abdomen Middle passage, bottom of the ship, how they pack 'em in Perpetrators on some fake sh*t, sweeter than saccharin Jailhouse snitches without corroborating evidence Niggaz sellin niggaz out for true to be, Benjamins But now I'm free, hit the block, eatin Entenmann's Benihana in and out, flow to eat to enter in Newspaper pencillin, tryin to pay the rent again Ex-con job interview, nobody answerin Feelin violent from the frustation I got pent up in But not tryin to go back to the place, I was sent up in Turn my own life around, f**k the establishment Listenin to hip-hop like "Where the f**k the talent went?" How the f**k did you replace, lyrics with your swaggerin? I'ma fix that, rhymin on with the mag-a-num I roll up in a caravan, full of North Africans My squad got, more soldier niggaz than the Saracens Cause just watch (watch!) when the terrorists attack again Their reaction's gonna be draft 'em and send us back again [scratches] I'm on parole, and I'll never be alone again F**k this place baby, I'm comin home again Shorty wrapped around me so I'll, never be cold again Never have to knock a ni**a out, for the phone again Prison ain't the place that you find your rite of passage in It's slavery, with nasty food in your abdomen Middle passage, bottom of the ship, how they pack 'em in Perpetrators on some fake sh*t, sweeter than saccharin I'm on parole