Bring My Mail - Z-Ro

I’d Like to thank my fans, For all the love mail and the hate mail

Everytime I was in jail and the judge didn’t let me make bail

The prosecutor gave me my time and laughed in my face

Cuz he knows I’m goin from first to last place

So I’m making out another commissary list

Stamped envelopes, and soups, oatmeal, and tuna fish

Soda, candy, kool offs, coffee as close to codine as I can get it Hoping this weekend I get another visit

But I aint stressin, I’m just countin down weeks

Poppin muscle relaxers so I’m always sleep

The warden wants the co’s to catch me slippin

But they aint trippin, so they bringin me burgers and barbeque chicken

Some of them love me, some of them they can’t stand me Probably cuz I’m rich and in the world I ride kandy

They think they put me through hell, But I can’t tell

It don’t matter what they do as long as they BRING MY MAIL

Bring my maaaaaaaaillllll

Bring my mail

My mail (my mail)

You can bring my maaaaaaillllll

Bring my mail (my mail, my mail, my mail…)

Aint nothing on the tv but jerry springer, And a sexy guard in the picket

But the windows are tinted so you can’t barely see her

I really hope they call reck in a sec

Otherwise workout a little bit and try to get a channel check

Certain officers try to give me a hard time

And the g.I.'s watching trying to catch me throwing up gang signs

For no reason at all they constantly harass me Trying to get me to lose my temper so they can gas me It’s funny, cuz I got so much pride they can’t take none of it from me They just mad cuz they aint makin enough money

And still gotta work on holidays all day and night

Taking is out on me cuz I’m in all white

But it’s alright I just lay back

When I get out I love to see their faces when I peel out in my may back

Meanwhile I can’t even tell I’m in jail

Cuz I’m doing swell

Yall can kiss my ass on the way to bring my mail

I’m usually out eating for the holidays, But instead

I’ll be sharing meat packs and noodles with my cellys and we spread

The tattoo guns runnin, And homies getting hit up Drinking hooch till we fall off and it's hard to get up But there's always one that wanna ruin it You know the one that's always pointing fingers, He the one that be doin it Running off at the

mouth but aint man enough to repeat it to the rank

So they taking both the tv’s out the tank

No necessities either but we can wash our own clothes

But somebody gonna get shit if we don’t get to watch the superbowl

I don’t even look at television in the world

So I’m good, I’ll write a rap or write a couple of girls

Or read me a book and put some fat on my brain

Before I come back to prison they have to murder me mayne

My in and out the jail house has to stop

But in the meantime I need to see how many new pictures I got

BRING MY MAIL