Lock Down (S.L.A.B.ed) - Trae Tha Truth, Boss, Mack Biggers

It’s still the same thang, once again

About’s to get the chain, headed back in

The concrete jungle, is my new home now

So I gotta get ready to rumble, cause I’m on lock down

How the fuck could they do it to my brother, busta judge got him locked in a

cell

Only means of communication, is a code through the mail

24/7−3/65, for the rest of his life

Gotta be ready, just in case a ride break through the night

Keeping money on his books, so he can get his hustle on

I feel I’m headed to the gates, so he don’t have to be alone

And if I gotta catch the chain, thangs ain’t gon be the same

Shank on side of my hip, to go off in a nigga frame

Over chow or my kicks, or respect of the matter

Just mind your own and go on, nigga fuck if you badder

Daydreaming and plus I’m paranoid, missing my child

A good guy gone wild, with life read on his file

I can’t take it the thought of me leaving, this world forever

Never to see my fam, only wishing to get a letter

On lock, praying that this is only a dream

The ride that I thought I took, really ain’t what it seem

I’m on lock, and all I want is pictures and mail

To make my time fly by, while I’m stuck in a cell

I’m on lock, and don’t even know if I’m coming home

But I’ma take what I deserve, and go off when they in my zone — 2x

I’m on lock in my 6-by-8, straight from the streets

To the steal gates, they got a nigga eating on steal plates

I caught that chain, thinking my mama gon come and get me

It was only a matter of time, them bars close swiftly

Young nigga known to run the H, on across the jail gates

I’m contemplating, of running my shank into my cell mate

Reminiscing back, when I was hustling out attics

Now it’s only concrete walls, and banging on bowling alleys

Niggas’ll untwist your cap, for fresh bag of them chaps

Let me see what you look like, or get you more than some slaps

We was able to have cigarettes, but they took that and the weights away

Now I find myself shooting out kites, to pass my time away

Orange P’s and toothpaste, got me feeling a high

Stole off on the state guard, niggas was jumping fly

Two shishcabob sticks up, for my niggas that ride

I do everything from the left side, taking it to your chest high

I’m on lock, but I’m well connected

From the Clarke to the Brae', niggas respect it or check it

H-Town niggas stand up, Mack Biggers known to man up

Ice water, when it’s time to go on put my hands up

And can’t wait to, take it to the yard

My fiber glass sharpened game sick, I’ll take it to your squad

And fuck, what you niggas is thinking

Still repping the block, from the streets to the Penn I’m still repping the

block

Fuck the C.O.'s, and C.O.3's

I do my time on my dick head, eat on these

No meal and no flicks fuck it, I ain’t tripping

P.O.A.

got a nigga, staying focused on a million

It’s Guerilla Emmet, so I run with the Maab

You niggas is pussy cowards, y’all can’t run from the mob

It’s wreck time my nigga, won’t y’all come to the yard

And Y-Town to H-Town, nigga just get in your squad