Can't Keep A Gee Down

Can't Keep A Gee Down 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**ch
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*t 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 nigga 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 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 sh*t 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
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 f**k they shoot you down for
my brotha wants to kill the pig
gave him a year because his arms are too big
it's f**ked 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
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