Does anyone out there feel the pain of a condemned soul?
Twisted faces stare into out lives, critiquing us, 
but not seeking to understand the M.A.N.
Mad Ass Nigga
Meaningless objectives stand first in the line
of thought that fill your head.
Am I dead?
I don’t think so, 
although the hurt does show.
LIE-berty hides behind the bandana of corruption, 
too busy with the seduction of the judicial whirlpool
that mercilessly drown the brothers of my mothers SUNS!
“Let me get some dap” 
while we pee shorties gap.
The trap has collapsed on my peoples heads.
Yeah the dreds, 
fades,
the bald heads and braids.
It’s all a part of the way we express the mess we’re in.
I gotta protect my chin, 
cause if I grin, I’m in…
…If I shout, I’m out..
Out of my mind,
Out to line,
Out of time,
Out to get mine.
From enemies of friends.
To the beginning from the end.
Yes Lie-berty’s love shapes and molds our mental 
creating waves big enough to surf on.
“Hang 10 dude!”
Yeah 10 niggas!
Nine thousand One Hundred and Twenty Five Days;
Do the time, not the math
And they don’t want half.
All of everything, reduced to nothing. 
Nothing but contempt 
for the system that had pimped
and fucked me, and my family. 
Some say “ain’t no thang to me.”
But that’s insanity, 
because what you claim to be,
is a man who’s free-DOME is based on
how many presidents become the residents of your pockets.
Pockets that 9 times out of 10 
were fashioned by the same hands 
that fashioned handcuffs around the wrist of Rodney King, 
Martin Luther King, and all the other Kings and Queens of Africa.  
Wake up or come live next to me. 
I’m the M.A.N. (Mad Ass Nigga) in Cell #7