It's about time, I outline,
the walls we're within.

No doubts fly, no routes fine,
the way I'm living.

I shout, whine, but still I'm
stuck in prison.

Mistakes, lies, of all kinds
that aren't forgiven.

I did lines, my shout guys,
insight went missing.

My fam cries, I got time, charges arisen.

No goodbyes, no wise guys,
at large just wishing.

Chose mob ties, not outcries,
I've been losing my vision.

The cops bite, one more time,
they're ankle nipping.

I got high, now gotta find,
my own remission.

Not guilty, we all cry, there's
no admissions.

Prosecution, all sigh, got 'em
power tripping.

They see nothing we do's right,
that's the stigmatism.

All criminals, all fight, try to
sit and listen.

It's about time to outline, the
truth you're gripping.

I'm trying to shed light on
your firm position.

'Cause we are drowning in blood,
from the law's incisions.

Not all of us are all bad, your
pocket's been pissin’.

Generational trauma, got
some pathways missing.

Some of us, just made some
bad decisions.

Others were in raids, that
our peers positioned.

Of all the charges laid, a lot
of facts went missing.

At the back of the courtroom,
hear the snakes all hissing.

A few are innocent black slaves,
to some cruel traditions.

I'm not gonna lie, some are
plain Kool-Aid sipping.

But the generations born
with stigmas are slipping.

So it's about time, we outline, corruption's given.

To all of mankind, it's time
the subject's risen.

Before more sons and daughters
die in this system.

Or another rise, in rates of recidivism.

I just hope you'll listen, to these words, from RISDON.