[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]