State Property 2

Yeah, what up, Free? Beans.
Salaam alekum.
Heh. Walekum a salaam.
A lot of niggas find Mohammed
when they get locked down.

They get out,
rock a suit and a bowtie...

sling a couple of bean pies...
spark a "L"
and forget all about that shit.

See, but Free, he was
one of those real Muslims.

Welcome, my kin.
Welcome to what?
This shit hole?
Say what?
Shit house, mansion...
it's whatever you make it,

Yeah, whatever, man.
Free never talked much,
but when he did...

it was always something deep.
I admit, I kind of liked
this nigga from the jump.

But in jail,
you can't trust nobody...

no matter what.
For example...
there was this one nigga
here for life.

Everybody called him
"The Fist"...

big, black, ugly-ass nigga...
nothin' to lose.
I mean, every day,
this nigga was on some shit.

He ain't give a fuck
if he knew you or not...

but once a day...
this motherfucker
would pick out somebody.

I mean, this nigga in for life.
I guess he had to vent.
Heh. It was kind of funny to me.
Broad Street Bully.
Nut, what's up, nigga?!
- What's goin' on?
- What up?

Inside, you never really know
what's what or who's who.

The only thing you come
to jail with is your rep...

and everybody knew my rep
from the street.

Man, in 24 hours,
I already had me a little crew.

Shit, I was good.
Every night
was the same shit...

and every day
was just more of it.

I mean, the scariest part
of being in jail to me...

was gettin' used to it.