Lyrics

Lupe Fiasco – Prisoner 1 & 2 Lyrics

Updated

March 16, 2023

Lupe Fiasco – Prisoner 1 & 2 Lyrics

Prisoner 1 & 2 Lyrics by Lupe Fiasco

A culmination of two songs: Prisoner 1 and Prisoner 2, with 2 different hooks. Prisoner 1 & 2 touch on incarceration and racial profiling.

Lu stated that this song was made for his close friend, Chilly Chill. However he also stated that Prisoner 1&2 is one of the songs that has many pieces running at the same time. The way Chilly Chill is trapped in prison, is the same way Lu is trapped in the music industry, specifically his record deal.

The prisoners are prisoners in a modern day penitentiary, and also represent the prisoners crucified alongside Jesus (Luke 23:39-43).

Both parts follow a parallel to the Standord Prison Experiment, which examined how ordinary individuals became menaces to enforce the prison laws over prisoners. In addition, it points towards the failure of the prison system on both “prisoners” parts leading to perpetual states of malpractice and a failed solution to convinced criminals.

[Produced by MoeZ’art]

[Prisoner 1]

[Intro: Prison Answering Machine]
Pre-paid collect call from (censor)
An inmate at (censor) Correctional Center
This call is subject to recording and monitoring
To accept charges, press 1
To refuse charges, press 2
If you would like to permanently block your number
From receiving calls from this facility, press 6
For balance and rate quotes, press 7 (button press)
Thank you for using Securus
You may start the conversation now

[Break: Fela Kuti]
The King
When you’re king of African music you’re the King
Because music is the king of all professions
(N.U. Music)

[Verse 1: Lupe Fiasco]
Best laid plan, make a mess, made
Damnation, let’s play hands, sans spades
That’s without, a boycott and a sit-out
Afro-Black pick in with a fist out
From the “Welcome Home” to the kick out
Reach into a rabbit, pull a trick out
Preacher preaching to a faggot with his dick out
Hard times call for armed time, hmm
Sick, sick, sick eyes from the nose pressure
Police snip zip ties on the protesters
Six wives in the fry of a molester
Met him at a caviar bar out in Odessa
Dirty needles breaking all the old records
A hundred hoes, one shovel and some old treasure
Ole Zeke use teeth as a gold tester
Finger rolls, finger waves, closet full of old leathers
Old sweaters, old boots, that’s a whole suit for some cold weather
New sale, two L’s and some old letters
Now he doing double life, while she lead a double life
Man, he need another wife
New approach might help a nigga bowl better
New hoes might help a nigga hold together
Or will the new lane lead ’em to the same pen?
And the hunger strike in ’em to the same tin

[Chorus 1: Lupe Fiasco & Nikki Jean]
Love is looking over various errors
And hate is habitually accelerating terror
Everywhere, but the mirror, oh
I just wanna be collected when I call god damn
I don’t wanna be accepted; not at all as I am
Visitor, visitor, prisoner, prisoner, land

[Verse 2: Lupe Fiasco]
Getting slammed from the protest, no food
Force fed him like OB with a nose tube
Visions say consult the yogi with the gold shoes
With the Rollie going bowling for the old school
(Yeah) I need more for the Michaels
That’s a loss for the class and a score for the rifles
Three hots and a cot and some cops
Trying to find dinosaurs in the Bible
It’s all quiet in the jailhouse
Then they ride in to find the empty cells out
They was looking for the swords
They was looking for the swords
I’m just looking at they feet ’cause I’m looking for the Lord
Looking in the library, looking at the law
10 years deep, now I’m looking at the bar
Claim sovereignty ’cause I’m bunkin’ with the Moors
They degenerate, they ain’t looking at the game
They just looking at the scores, they be putting on my books
‘Cause I’m looking at the stars, trade a shank for some crank
Now I’m looking at a war, BGF got the yard
AB got the kitchen, snitches on PC
M&M on a mission but C.O.’s got the prison
God got us all, God set us free
God is the key, but the guards got the doors

[Verse 3: Lupe Fiasco]
Punching on the glass
Scared that some killer might fuck him in the ass
Staff getting rigid, wasn’t gon’ take away the visits
Segregate niggas by theyself and make ’em stay with it
Wicked, swung the shank around on a mop string
They had to pull him out the cell with a SWAT team
That’s a cop team
They sent hella cops to stop, the helicopteriiiing…
Man, he’d thought that he’d fly away
Like a kite, take flight, like a letter on a string
Like propellers on a wing (but the kite was the key)
They made electric chairs for his dying days
Last meals, no appeals for him to try and stay
On Death Row like Suge and the late Pac
Maybe he could dig a tunnel outta A Block
And wear gloves for the razor-wired gate top
Scared thugs going crazy in a caged box
Looking at the world through the TV
And they gone, rapping over beats from the tabletops
Ay! That’s how it is in a police state
When your life is just a number and release date
When you’re rehabilitated so correctly
And let’s hope that’s how you’re living when you’re set free

[Prisoner 2]

[Intro: Prison Answering Machine]
To accept charges, press 1
To refuse charges, press 2
If you would like to permanently block your number
From receiving calls from this facility, press 6
For balance and rate quotes, press 7 (button press)
Thank you for using Securus
You may start the conversation now

[Break: Ayesha Jaco]
The orange wings of the new Jim Crow
Are dyed Klansman sheets and court papers
Dreadlocks nooses hang from his neck as the new Jim Crow
Corporations feed him seeds yet unborn
He’ll be captured by Maya in a ruby-encrusted cage
I see the light at the end of the tunnel
And answers that I leave in empty pages to be written
Where is your pen? The new Jim Crow
(The new Jim Crow, the new Jim Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow)

[Verse 1: Lupe Fiasco]
They sell they souls, they sell they selves
They ain’t twelve, they old, niggas old as hell
Old as jail, old as cells
Sold so much salt, ain’t no more salt on the shelves
You a prisoner too, you living here too
You just like us, til’ your shift get through
You could look like us, you know shit get through
You should be in cuffs like us, you should get strike two
You should get like life, you should get like woo!
You should get that twice, you should get refused
The open road, that’s no parole, and no control
Over your own soul, so control
Your own remote control that your folks can hold

[Chorus 2: Lupe Fiasco]
You better watch these niggas (en garde)
If it was up to me, I would never unlock these niggas
Wouldn’t rehabilitate, man, I would just box these niggas
And throw away the key
I’d throw away the key like the coast guard watching me
I’d throw away the keys
I’d throw away the keys, I’d throw away the keys
You better watch these niggas (en garde)
If it was up to me, I would never unlock these niggas
Wouldn’t rehabilitate, I would just box these niggas
And throw away the keys
I’d throw away the keys like the coast guard watching me
I’d throw away the keys
I’d throw away the keys, I’d throw away the keys
You better watch these niggas (en garde)

[Verse 2: Lupe Fiasco]
5th year with the DOC
Do you see what’s the C.O. see?
Robocop opt to his C-O-P
Three hots and a C-O-T
Lived in a small town, his whole life
Never left like soundin’ like the hole, right?
Either working at the prison, or it’s no lights
In the system working with the police
In the prison stripping niggas phone rights
Got a malice, on the other side of the bars
Watching niggas get smart, watching niggas get strong
Watching niggas get home, he jail us
But deep down he jealous
With each sweep down, he tell us
With each beatdown, he help us
Wrong one gon’ knock his ass out though
It’s why he gotta lock all the niggas out for
Warden told the boy he better calm down
Step back from the brink and put the bomb down
But how the whole world in your palm sound?
It’s why they treat niggas like shit
Writing raps to the taps
Keep the face mask on ’em, these niggas might spit