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