(*Prod. by J. Troy) [** Uses same beat as 'Until the End of Time' performed by 2Pac:]
{Talking:} Yeah, y'all know what time it is This ya boy P. Troy checkin in And we doin this one, for all the mothers For them gangsta boys, gangsta lil' girls Doin time in this system, y'all know how it go Yeah, yeah, yeah (c'mon)
[Chorus: (2x)] Hey mama, I'm writin you from jail Them crackers got me fucked up, they got me in a cell I know you disappointed, and I apologize Don't want no visitation I don't wanna see yo eyes
[Verse 1:] Yeah, hey mama, I hope you all good I guess I'm doin fine, I just miss the hood I got a little time but I took it like a man But it ain't the end, I'll get another chance You always told me bout the company I kept I guess that I'm a victim of the hood that I rep A Southside gangsta facin five to the do' Before they took me, I had to let 'em know
[Repeat Chorus: (2x)]
[Verse 2:] Yeah, hey mama, I know you probably sad But holler at my siblings, holler at my dad Tell everybody that I'm doin just fine And I'm in here because my life was on the line Mama, niggas hatin when your pockets get straight They think that they can rob, they think that they can take They thinkin that your fake cause they see you on T.V. Surprise for them suckas, don't ever try me I had to let it bang, I had to let it pop I had to let it sang, I had to make 'em drop And if I wouldnt have shot then I'd probably been the victim That .40 cal. glock first I cock then I hit 'em They got me down here Right Street 7th floor Ain't nothin I can change I just go with the flow I'm feelin kinda low, but I guess I'll be straight Just hit the lawyer up and try to rush the court date
[Repeat Chorus: (2x)]
[Verse 3:] Yeah, verse 3, verse 3 Hey mama, they shipped me off to prison A home cooked meal only thang that I'm missin So holler at my girl, so holler at my son And tell 'em that I'm sorry for the wrong that he done Maybe this could've been avoided but I'd doubt it All I can do is write another rap about it And try to stay 'sane, it's all in the game When some here for killing, when some here for 'caine When some here for chilling wrong place wrong time When some here situation just like mine But I have no regrets, it could've been worse I could've been dead if I didn't bust first So mama, I hope that I'm forgiven I write you everyday while I'm chillin off in prison I'm tryin to get religion, I'm tryin to do better With all my love, til' I write your next letter, your son