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 bitch
 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 bullshit I put you throw
 I pleaded not guilty, G
 with no intentions of going to trial, I copt the plea
 Now the cops got another young nigga off the streets
 He's coming back to fish for some more meat
 Puttin marked money on a hook to real us in
 throw us in this little ass 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 shit and stay strong
 some fake religon and play with churches
 they put pretty boys with hard niggaz 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
 to try to get Parole in this long ass line
 my big homie walked out with his head down low
 I said yo, big boo, what the fuck they shoot you down for
 my brotha wants to kill the pig
 gave him a year because his arms are too big
 it's fucked 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 niggaz in the shell-toe Adidas
 and we going to make this money, all of it
 not a little bit
 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