It wasn't me, believe me it wasn't me
But I can see up in your eyes there's a quota you gotta meet
I gotta family man, I gotta mom
If you take her baby boy that's a different type of bomb
What you think I did? A robbery?
I love Beanie Sigel, but can't be the state's property
I gotta real good head up on my shoulders
And don't envision orange jumpsuits when I'm older
Left my girls crib to go and buy a few records
Everybody knows that I have a clean record
My heart dropped when I heard that cop say
I'm being held against my will for assault and a rape
You've got the wrong guy, I don't play that shit
I'm the poster boy for the gentleman's starter kit
I need a lawyer, get the fuck up off my shoulder
Hungry as hell, and this room is getting colder
Now I'm looking at a pen and some paper
Hope that there's a god, cause I'm praying to my savior
They say confessing to the crime will work in my favor
Write the lie now and the truth will come later
I don't believe em' but don't have many options
When you're black you get to choose between prisons or coffins
Hold my mom down while I'm laid up in this pen
I'll be back to clear my name in around 8 to 10