* 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