sirens firing, blue party lights turn on//
flee the scene, 100 yard dash I'm gone//
hit the exit, the suspect description fits//
check the records, warrant for my arrest legit//
urban civilian, the suburban killer//
handcuffs too tight, sterling silver//
the states new prisoner//
threw me in the back of the squad car, called me n!gger//
I felt like I was thrownback in a vintage Rosa Parks picture//
sped off out of district, downtown prescinct//
took my fingerprints rolled in black ink//
turned at three angles for the flash and mugshots//
one phone call, received a quarter from the cops//
stand in line, gaurds handin me uniformed outfits//
stuck in this place where they use their ass as pouches//