[Chorus - X3 w/ variations]
I`m just a prisoner, ohh noo
(I`m just)
[Verse 1]
Young man stepping off an uptown train
Ground still wet from the cold hard rain
Living in the city, know the streets by name
Take a walk with me, come and feel my pain
See what I see, come and get my glimpse
Dig a little deeper that the media clips
Underneath strugglers and the hardships
Two bit hustlers, big time pimps
Now look at little Mike, I heard he lost his dad
Drank a lot of liquor, made his liver turn bad
Now I see him out there serving that Yac
Will he even live to be a high school grad?
But see that lady named old Ms. Givens
Who used to serve lunch to the homeless children
Worked a lot of overtime, still got evicted
Spent her last dollar on a lottery ticket
I witness this from behind my gates
Totally determined to decide my fate
Food for thought when I`m saying my grace
I wonder if I ever will escape this place
[Chorus] X2
[Verse 2]
Now I done seen a lot of things in this town
Cry me a river like the tears of a clown
Made me familiar with the sites and sounds
To hit ya with the rhythm so you gotta get down
Shake off the blues to forget my past
Forget that I`m a prisoner but still I`m trapped
Stack a little cash, have a little stash
You either rich or poor, ain`t no middle class
Man I`m trying to get it any way I choose
Come around the way and walk a day in my shoes
Same neighborhood where I paid my dues
And you can see the homies on the late night news
Why they out thugging trying to fire them guns
Don`t the realize that they mama`s need sons
Abusing their lives like it`s gotta be done
Young black male that society shuns
If everything we do is so clean and so fresh
Then why have we become such a people oppressed
You say you don`t care, hate it you I guess
It`s a living nightmare, but its where I rest
[Chorus] X2
[Verse 3]
Now prison is a place full of cold hard facts
Where even the innocent might get trapped
Run down housing overcome by crack
The teachers can`t even get a good contract
If it ain`t the cats doing they hard bids
Or the mama`s out working on the graveyard shifts
If it ain`t the artists who display our gifts
Then tell me who the hell is gonna save our kids
Preacher man tell me, can it get any worse?
Don`t the Lord love us, are we really just cursed?
With the hunger and thrist while I`m saying my grace
I pray for the day we can escape this place
Yeah
[Chorus] repeat w/ variations
