Songtext The long ride Killah Priest

The long ride

[Intro:]
(lockup) I really done it this time, I can't believe this
(Man up, stop talking)
I'm just a kid man, I broke my mom's heart

[Killah Priest:]
Starring out the prison bus windows
And mountains of snow only 17 with 40 to go
Thinking of all the pussy, weed and drinking he be missing
Damn why the judge wasn't leniant on my sentence?
Hit the prison system
Grew up a victim now he's faced with killers
Premonition you envision gotta make it nigga
Try lifting weights to get in shape
Spoons are scraped for wounds to make tatoos on face...
That afternoon he was raped
He decides that he couldn't take it
Make himself a cloth bracelet
Put it on his neck draw his breath
Last test may you rest in peace or in pieces
According to the laws of the street shit
Nine releases, pits walk off of leashes
Crime increases, Crip chalk line on his cement
Behind the precinc
A good friend you find you gotta keep it
Snakes will try to buy ya secrets, try to find ya weakness
For jealousy reasons I'm tired of telling these heathens
Overwhelmed by these demons
Secret meetings kinda swelling ya melon from what ya man is speaking
Open they closets see skeletons reaching
My rebellion strategic
Teach it grab the nine and squeeze it
See I live it and breathe it
Raised in poor schools where the principals are parapalegic
90 percent of the students a failure for reading
No elder achievement just welfare receiving
Who do you believe in? God or this Government?
The stars and they publicist
It's hard cover-age school yards pushing drugs on kids
Drug dealers lost they minds
Little kids shooting everywhere no aim cross that line
No morals we be judged for that
Slug or crack no-ones loyal just a shoulder shrug
Perhaps we went way past the borders we going to far
Save my babies from the street but mom I'm going to far
Back of a cops car I box with God
Wrestle with devils play chess with death seduced by my ghetto
Play dice with my life a flirter of murder
Tease the grave courted my sanity slept with my rage
If life's a bitch then deaths a bastard the presents the gift
I guess that what make me a rapper
My mind, my pen, my pad that's the ministry
The holy trinity, only serenity, divinity
My pen will squeeze footage in booklets of Brooklyn
For hoodlums I put lens on pens and push film for ends!