(verse 1)

Obama, tell these cops don't lock us up for ganja.

See I'm at peace while police bring the drama.
It's true indeed I cop the trees, but what's the problem? (the problem)
The problem is this, the metal you got keeps slicing my wrists.

Cant find my homies killers but you find my homies thats lit.
Ain't it a (*##$? They prison us for blazing a spiff,
cagin my clique, all for what? We makin em rich.

They got the helicopters flyin round that's lookin in cribs.
Phone's tapped when you chat you can hear when it clicks.
Not only that, they take advantage man when ever they pissed.

Say you resist, then turn and bust you right in your %#@!.
It happened to Nit, happened to Chis, happened to 'Twins',
it happens to men, can't like it won't happen again.

To all the innocent and weed smokers trapped in the pen,
I rap with the passion for them let the fire begin and blaze it up.


(hook)
They got us under the scope and through the wire, one time.
They the ones that start the fire.

They only like they own skin and not mine, and that's why.
They the ones that start the fire.
See all they got's a bunch of hatin on they mind, I wonder why?

They the ones that start the fire.
They love to kill, f*ck real, you see it in they eyes, no lie.
They the ones that start the fire.