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Jail time had me doing hella planning Smoking amm, watching pure TV, had me screaming out "Free Max Branning" Then smashing bits in draws, packs of amm and TECs on the landing I gotta lick bones on a Sunday, I re-up at church, it's mad ting, sad ting Still I've gotta pray for my sins I've done a lot of dirt but I'm innocent, chilling with Streets on the wing And he just got a 623, man, I pray I don't pay for the work I put in SC got his case dismissed, I'm tryna be feeling like him Just the other day I was locked up with Mental, treating our cell like the gym Out here with bare amnesia with Benny Glove tryna buss my door, saying tone it down cause your cell too smelly Let me roll this burn, kick back, sip tea, watch telly Skinny motherfucker, one day in the gym got me feeling hench already I see a man so low, he's tryna swap anything for a brekky And the ops don't leave their wing, hella funny man coming like Jim Carrey Gang rich gang, tryna make a new plan, and I drink Hooch like Henney I bang, rich gang, tryna make a new plan, and I drink Hooch like Henney Free Mental Our op got got so they threw him in jail Just the other day, we was whipping in the kettle Bare Drizzy Drake in the cell Two incense sticks get lit up Bare amnesia in the cell Two incense sticks get lit up Bare amnesia in the cell Letras de canciones Jail time had me doing hella planning Smoking amm, watching pure TV, had me screaming out "Free Max Branning" Then smashing bits in draws, packs of amm and TECs on the landing I gotta lick bones on a Sunday, I re-up at church, it's mad ting, sad ting Still I've gotta pray for my sins I've done a lot of dirt but I'm innocent, chilling with Streets on the wing And he just got a 623, man, I pray I don't pay for the work I put in SC got his case dismissed, I'm tryna be feeling like him Just the other day I was locked up with Mental, treating our cell like the gym Stepped out of violence I've got beef with neeks and trident See man run so we sound that drum Bet he thought he was sliding I gotta stay low from the siren Cos I got that thing on me like I ain't breaching my license Bro go fiddle with the mash so much you think he was typing Send P's to the guys in jail tell them that there's no point writing Tryna stay low from the feds and they tryna bait out where I'm hiding Pull up in a stolen truck, hear thunder see lightning That shit's exciting The whole squad done obbo Feds make squad feel famous wherever they see us they follow They don't really like how I'm living smoke niggas get money's the mobbo Reload square after square, like I don't know about obbo Skid round tryna serve man a hollow Jail time had me doing hella planning Smoking amm, watching pure TV, had me screaming out "Free Max Branning" Then smashing bits in draws, packs of amm and TECs on the landing I gotta lick bones on a Sunday, I re-up at church, it's mad ting, sad ting Still I've gotta pray for my sins I've done a lot of dirt but I'm innocent, chilling with Streets on the wing And he just got a 623, man, I pray I don't pay for the work I put in SC got his case dismissed, I'm tryna be feeling like him Just the other day I was locked up with Mental, treating our cell like the gym From Letras Mania