Parole

DJ Green LanternDJ Green Lantern 

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DJ Green Lantern

James D'Agostino (born 1975), better known by his stage name DJ Green Lantern, is a DJ and hip hop music producer from Rochester, New York. In 2002, D'Agostino was signed by Eminem to become the official DJ for Shady Records after DJ Head stepped down for undisclosed reasons. D'Agostino left the label in 2005 due to a dispute with Shady Records rapper 50 Cent. more »

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(980505A) Yeah nigga what
(You made parole) What?
(Pack your stuff) The f*ck?
(And get the f*ck out of here) A-ha ha
Hey yo man, it's about motherfuckin' time man
Hey yo G, hey yo G son, I got my papers man
I'm out this motherfucker!

Yeah, I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again
Never selling heroin, never selling crack again
Don't work for the government coke packagin
Don't fire indiscriminate, with the mac again
My people are stuck behind glass like a mannequin
They pretend to give a f*ck, just like the Vatican
Second chance, faith based, two-faced Samaritans
Every time we come back, they... [record rewinds]
I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again
Never selling heroin, never selling crack again
I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again
I'm out of, I'm out of (I'm out this motherfucker!)

Yeah, I'm out of jail, and I'm never going back again
Never selling heroin, never selling crack again
Don't work for the government coke packagin'
Don't fire indiscriminate, with the mac again
My people are stuck behind glass like a mannequin
They pretend to give a f*ck, just like the Vatican
Second chance, faith based, two-faced Samaritans
Every time we come back, they keep on cashin' in
Prison labor, third-world sweatshop comparisons
'til we kidnap the whole fuckin' garrison
Yeah, poverty, makes people do, reckless things
But corporations do worse to protect they bling
Prisons are more, overcrowded than the rap game
They say you more likely to go to jail with a black name
Freakonomics that I speak through Ebonics
And f*ck Phonics, little niggas is (Hooked On) chronic
But if you on stage with the DEA, as your hype man
Don't get yourself locked up, and blame the white man
We transformed gangs and criminal enterprises
Usin' O.G.'s as advisers
Before they, send us to war, after they divide us
But I won't let 'em use us like Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders
My movement's like a jujitsu kata
I graduated outta prison, so f*ck my alma mater nigga

(Hello?) Yeah yeah, what's up yo?
(Hey, how you doin'?) Yo, you know what?
I just got my papers (you're fuckin' lying!)
Yo I'm comin' home to you, I'll see you in like a day and a half
(Oh my God, I'm so happy! Are you serious?)
(I'm so happy! Are you fuckin' serious?)
Yeah, I'm dead serious baby, I'm comin' home (oh my God!)
Put the little blue thing on for me, aight?
(You got that baby, yeah!)

I'm on parole, and I'll never be alone again
F*ck this place baby, I'm comin' home again
Shorty wrapped around me so I'll, never be cold again
Never have to knock a nigga out, for the phone again
Prison ain't the place that you find your right of passage in
It's slavery, with nasty food in your abdomen
Middle passage, bottom of the ship, how they pack 'em in
Perpetrators on some fake shit, sweeter than saccharin
Jailhouse snitches without corroborating evidence
Niggas sellin' niggas out for true to be, Benjamins
But now I'm free, hit the block, eatin' Entenmann's
Benihana in and out, flow to eat to enter in
Newspaper penicillin, tryin to pay the rent again
Ex-con job interview, nobody answerin'
Feelin violent from the frustation' I got pent up in
But not tryin' to go back to the place, I was sent up in
Turn my own life around, f*ck the establishment
Listenin' to hip-hop like "Where the f*ck the talent went?"
How the f*ck did you replace, lyrics with your swaggerin'
I'm a fix that, rhymin' on with the mag-a-num
I roll up in a caravan, full of North Africans
My squad got, more soldier niggas than the Saracens
Cause just watch (watch!) when the terrorists attack again
Their reaction's gonna be draft 'em and send us back again

I'm on parole, and I'll never be alone again
F*ck this place baby, I'm comin' home again
Shorty wrapped around me so I'll, never be cold again
Never have to knock a nigga out, for the phone again
Prison ain't the place that you find your right of passage in
It's slavery, with nasty food in your abdomen
Middle passage, bottom of the ship, how they pack 'em in
Perpetrators on some fake shit, sweeter than saccharin
I'm on parole

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