Ever since the beginnin of my undetermined, imminent
period of lockdown as a home-bound invalid,
it never seemed infinite, like I wouldn't see the end of it.
I got myself right into it, yet the lessons learned in it
humbled my mentality, and even made an influence
on anybody listenin to instances I schooled em with.
"Never get used to always gettin away with shit,
cuz if it ever bites you in the ass, you're gonna pay for it."
Hard knock school was definitely the one to spit about,
cuz the hardest shit was not knowin when you're gettin out.
Before I always thought, "I'm never goin down the route
of gettin caught up, popped, n locked up..." then I got assed out.
Yeah, I played the role inside, and I was the "homie," no doubt,
dippin into niggas' spread, and buildin up my county clout.
There's a gang of young ass cats that acted like they were fuckin proud
about the jobs they did, so they always talked all fuckin loud,
but those are the same young motherfuckers we know, actin as a mouthpiece
and so the not-so-younger cats had to "knock that nigga out, please!"
The educated talent never has to point it out, seein
that I gave respect where it was due, they chilled around me.
I spit the wisdom that I've given homies, family, hoodrats, women,
niggas, bitch niggas, scholars, geniuses, and even children.
And for the eleven days I was sleepin, eatin, shittin, and cookin,
I pulled some N's from my book and shot em down. "Good lookin!"
When I got released, my mind at ease, I finally breathed sighs of relief,
until I realized that I didn't recognize the scenery surroundin me.
And the very first hint of nicotine I said, "I beg you, please,
can I bum a square? I came from there [jail] and I really feel like a fiend."
And that first hit brought me back to the Marlboro field of dreams,
I called the family and happily walked to In-N-Out cuz I had to eat.
After I got my food and extra water, I just took a seat
and waited for my parents; I gave wrong directions accidentally.
Eventually, I was found and we gave hugs as I was homeward bound.
When we parked, I took a shit, shower, changed my clothes and looked around.
I asked them what happened to my property, I didn't get my phone.
Apparently the deputies allowed my dad to grab the things I owned,
when I only signed out for my keys. Anyway, it's too late now,
I was finally home... and been 9 months locked down.
Steady chillin at the crib from October 17th to June 25th,
the last Thursday of the month and I finally got my ass dismissed.
I maintained, and it wasn't really bad at all.
I haven't missed much, aside from goin out and makin calls.
Lifestyle changes made, priorities got re-assessed,
from livin day-to-day, I appreciate the lifestyle rest.
I'm just takin baby steps, no need for me to feel the need
to get up out the crib at a moment's notice or for me to leave.
To all my trues, that's family too, y'all held me down, I'll throw up a W [dub],
still the funny asshole with all the jokes, and y'all will always have all my love.
Good lookin, fam! I got you, all day.
*Cordial interpretation for the slanguistically challenged:
Thank you everyone, I deeply appreciate your supportive efforts. I am gratefully indebted to everyone and their kindness.