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Let's go fellas  shower time's up in five minutes 
* sounds of prison bars slamming shut * 
Get those feet off the table  whaddyou think this is  home? 

(This is bullshit   yo son let me get a ciggarette) 
(I'ma go.. back to my cell and read) 

That's it   five more minutes and that's it 
Back to work fellas  back to work! 

[Dead Prez] 
Yo  lil' Kadeija pops his locks  he wanna pop the lock 
but prison ain't nuttin but a private stock 
And she be dreamin bout his date of release, she hate the police 
but loved by her grandma who hugs and kisses her 
Her father's a political prisoner, Free Fred 
Son of a Panther that the government shot dead 
back in 12/4, 1969 
Four o'clock in the mornin, it's terrible but it's fine, cause 
Fred Hampton Jr. looks just like him 
Walks just like jim, talks just like him 
And it might be frightenin the Feds and the snitches 
to see him organize the gang brothers and sisters 
So he had to be framed yo, you know how the game go 
Eighteen years, because the five-oh said so 
They said he set a fire to a a-rab store 
but he ignited the minds of the young black and poor 

Behind enemy lines, my niggaz is cellmates 
Most of the youths never escape the jail fates 
Super maximum camps will advance they gameplan 
to keep us in the hands of the man, locked up 

(Hello?) Collect call from Nes 
(How are you?) Yo shit is crazy Boo 
(Have you been alright?) You know I miss you 
(I feel lonely lonely lonely) Yo woman.. 
can you put some money in my commisary? 

Lord can't even smoke a loosey since he was twelve 
925 locked up with a L 
They call him triple K, cause he killed three niggaz 
Another ghetto child got turned into a killer 
His pops was a Vietnam veteran on heroin 
Used like a pawn by these white North Americans 
Momma couldn't handle the stress and went crazy 
Grandmomma had to raise the baby 
Just a young boy, born to a life of poverty 
Hustlin, robbery, whatever brung the paper home 
Carried the chrome like a blind man holdin cane 
Tattoes all over his chest, so you can know his name 
But y'all know how the game go 
D's kicked in the front door, and guess who they came fo'? 
A young nigga headed for the pen, coulda been 
shoulda been, never see the hood again 

Behind enemy lines, my niggaz is cellmates 
Most of the youths never escape the jail fates 
Super maximum camps will advance they gameplan 
to keep us in the hands of the man, locked up 

Behind enemy lines, my niggaz is cellmates 
Most of the youths never escape the jail fates 
Super maximum camps will advance they gameplan 
to keep us in the hands of the man, locked up 

* speaking in spanish * 

You ain't gotta be locked up to be in prison 
Look how we livin, thirty thousand niggaz a day 
up in the bing, standard routine 
They put us in a box just like our life on the blocks 
(behind enemy lines) 
You ain't gotta be locked up to be in prison 
Look how we livin, thirty thousand niggaz a day 
up in the bing, standard routine 
They put us in a box just like our life on the blocks 
(behind enemy lines)

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