(If I had a heart)
Do this on my Lonesome
I stay on my own
I stay, I stay on my Lonesome
Do this on my own
I stay, I stay on my dolie
Roll, Rollin' hella dodi
She, She f*ck with my brodie
Tryna hit me on the low
I still play with 40's
But I still ain't buy my own
I, I ran out of doja
But I'm still gon' pour my four
I'm tryna count my racks
Now your bitch tryna interact
You talkin' bout takin' her out to saks
I'm talkin' bout beatin' it from the back
Sometimes I really cannot lack
Cause I got demons on my back
Bitch, I put pain inside my gas
But that pain don't ever last
I be pullin' up with 40's
Sometimes I cannot lack
They be making hella stories
Sometimes I can't relax
I be chillin' on the lowkey
Just tryna count my racks
And goddamn, I miss my OG
But there ain't no comin' back
(If I had a heart)
Do this on my Lonesome
I stay on my own
I stay, I stay on my Lonesome
Do this on my own
I stay, I stay on my Dolie
Roll, Rollin' hella dodi
She, She f*ck with my brodie
Tryna hit me on the low
I still play with 40's
But I still ain't buy my own
I, I ran out of doja
But I'm still gon' pour my four
But I'm still gon' pour my four
And I'm still gon' pour my soul
And I'm still gon' roll my dough
And I'm stayin' locked in
We comin' kickin' down your door
Come and see who I really am
I'ma take them Benjamin's
I got blood up on my jeans
And A.R.P's is up inside
Got blood up on my hand's
The pussy boy was tryna die
What was that young boul thinkin'
That young boul was probably fried