Jay-O-Felony - The Loc is on his own lyrics

Intro Yea, dedicated to all my homeboys In the California Youth Authority Much Love Verse One: I caught another case, so the Loc needs bail But your people act funny, when you're sittin in a cell I didn't get mail so jail was like hell Out of anger, I shank 'em in the neck in the stairwell I remember potacaine was used to rock up It was a trip on how I got locked up 10 saltine crackers runnin at me with yellow coats Yellin "Don't move or catch a hot one to the throat" You learn real fast to put your hands up quick, black Yo, just put an 'out of order' sign on your bozack I didn't twitch, scratch or itch They found a nine in my inside pocket ain't that a b**h A short and quick trip to the County straight drama The first call I made was collect to my mama I didn't go see her before I went to jail But now I wanted her to come visit Send money orders and post bail Till I remembered that I'm grown So now I gotta handle it myself, fool The Loc is on his own Chorus: The Loc is on His Own Moms was trippin' she got a block on the phone I can't call home, the Loc is on his own Moms was trippin' she got a block on the phone I can't call home, the Loc is on his own Moms was trippin' she got a block on the phone Verse Two: Yea Moms I love you too I understand that your tired of the bullsh** I put you throw I pleaded not guilty, G With no intentions of going to trial, I got the plea Now the cops got another young n***a off the streets He's coming back to fish for some more meat Puttin marked money on a hook to real us in Or sit in this little a** bucket called the Pen And they'll give you a day when you'll be free Huh, but it ain't no garantee Because you might get the shovel Be the next one to find out is it a god in the devil But it you can hold your own and mind your own You live long Take no sh** and stay strong Some fake religon and play with churches They put pretty boys with hard n***as on purpose I ain't heard from non of my peoples, homes But that's ai-ight though The Bullet Loc is on his own Chorus Polo T-shirt, now I'm creasing up my 501's Hoping they gonna give me some sun No So-Glow Pimp Daddy Afro The Loc ain't about to shave I'm comin like a mob in 9-4 Comb in my left back pocket, it's time Try to get Parole in this long a** line My big homie walked out with his head down low I said yo, big boo, what the f** they shoot you down for My brotha wants to k** the pig Gave him a year because his arms are too big It's f**ed up in jail If you're holdin a bowl with some change Your goin back in your cell They let me go, I grabbed my heaters Now I'm down with the n***as in the shell-toe Adidas And we going to make this money, all of it Not a little bit I'm smokin on the Indo until I get illiterate Leave me alone, trick, I'm in a full zone My money's on the microphone The Loc is on his own Chorus She got a block on the phone