Prison Story
I’m a Righteous Convict
I’m a righteous convict. I know I aint got nothin’ comin’. I do my AMs and PMs. I watch my back, don’t snitch, mind my own business, do my own time, front myself off, kiss the man’s ass, get respect, fight when I have to, stay strong. I got game. People know I don’t play.
I cut my peoples loose. Don’t get no pussy. Don’t watch TV. Don’t gamble. Don’t do smack. Don’t do crank. Don’t drink pruno.
Got two partners. They take a shank for me. I take one for them.
I go to chow. Dudes packing so much steel, if they put a magnet at the door they pull everyone out by the seat of they pants. People say prison food ain’t no good. There’s a CO up on the cat walk with a twelve gauge. Black dudes in one corner, White dudes in another, Northern Mexicans in another, Southern Mexicans in the other. You don’t know if a drunk Southerner be staggering into a Northerner table. You don’t know if the dude next to you have a epileptic fit. You don’t know if any minute you goin’ to have to hit the floor ‘cause the dude on the catwalk think he got to shoot to keep control. It be so loud you can’t hear yourself talk’ to the dude next to you. I block out the fear. I block out the noise. I block out the gun. I taste. I chew every bite. Prison food ain’t so bad. Not bad at all.
I said I ain’t got nothin’ coming. You got your little credit card, your Beamer, your TV, your woman, your music, your dope, your house, your movies, your ‘gourmet’ food, your team, your jewelry, your entertainment center, your little cruises, your stars, your politics, your power, your little fine tastes. Stuff. You got stuff.
You worship the store man. He say, “the stuff is everything. The stuff make you.” He say, “You can have this and you can have that but you can’t, you can’t have this.” The store man say, “the stuff is where its at.” He say, the stuff IS you. You got to defend the stuff.”
He stand at his little cash register. I know all I got to do is make it so he think he gonna lose his life. Don’t need no gun. Could be a can of baby powder, look like a bomb with wire tied around it. Long as he think his life is at stake. I stand in line. Next person, ching ching sixty-nine dollars, next, ching ching two hundred dollars. Then, I’m there. I say, “I want it all.” He say, “Take everything. Take the popcorn, take the TV, take the money, JUST DON’T TAKE MY LIFE.”
Now, when he say that, his premises are not intact. One minute before, the stuff was everything. The next minute it don’t mean nothin’. I watch his premises crumble right in front of me. If his premises was intact, he’d tell me to go fuck myself or, come at me across the counter, throw a left hook. He’d give his life for the stuff. Just like that, the stuff ain’t nothin’ now. Nothin’.
You got all this stuff and you still think you got somethin’ comin’. Your stuff ain’t shit. You ain’t nuthin’ but a junkie. You worse than a junkie. A junkie only want to get high and he know it. You want this and you want that and all you want is to get high but you don’t even know it.
You want it louder and bigger, and better, and more. Like I said before, the store man got your mind and that is your bind. And more, it ain’t enough no matter how much stuff, no matter what the volume, it gonna be rough. Take it from me, I said take it, because the hole in your soul can never be filled. It be on the bottom and you lookin’ at the top. You ain’t got nothin’comin’neither, do you hear? Do I have to say it louder? You ain’t got nothin’ comin.’ Nothin.’