In this life, you know
I'm really on my own,
I don't f*ck with hoes,
You know I'm really
Chillin' all alone,
I'm tryna take a trip to Italy, I'm tryna go to Rome,
Call my brotha f*cken phone,
I told him,Let's talk bro to bro,
Told my brother, keep it close
Look what the f*ck they just chose,
They'd rather be up with them snitches
Instead of up with the bros,
I'd rather be out making money
And making it off the coke,
I got niggas that'll hit your head
And make a ghost,
Uh
Kicked up Blicked up,
Chillin' all alone,
I was really chillin' in these streets,
I'm on my own dawg
Busy ass nigga,
I don't answer on my Phone calls,
Let the phone ring
Until the motherf*ckin tone come,
Ran it all up
Mmm, ran it on my own, dawg,
She's a fine wine dine time on my balls dawg
Suckin' and she won't stop
Always do the most, doe'
I hate it when these bitches fake
But we can take a toast, tho ,
In this life, you know I'm really on my own
I don't f*ck with hoes,
You know I'm really Chillin' all alone
I'm tryna take a trip to Italy, I'm tryna go to Rome
Call my brotha f*cken phone,
I told him, let's talk bro to bro
I got hitters up in CD,
Got another shooter in a C3
Hop out and pop all you on the TV,
It's a F*ckin' homicide,
He's on the scene G,
She call my phone and she like B,
Don't you leave,
I told her, baby, only weed is what I need
I'm tryna spit this shit out too clean, Yeah,
This is how I feel
When I'm all up in the field,
Man I'm tryna keep this real
And now I'm pouring up the potion,
All my shooters cause commotion
(WTM), what's the motion,
I really had to run up my own shit
In this life, you know I'm really on my own,
I don't f*ck with hoes
You know I'm really chillin' all alone,
I'm tryna take a trip to Italy
I'm tryna go to Rome,
Call my brother f*cken phone,
I told him, let's talk bro to bro
Told my brother, keep it close,
Look what the f*ck they just chose
They'd rather be up with them snitches Instead of up with the bros
I'd rather be out makin' money and makin' it Off the coke
I got nigga's that'll hit your head and make you Ghost
Bluntz - On my own Lyrics
Bluntz - On my own Lyrics
Official
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English
In this life, you know
I'm really on my own,
I don't f*ck with hoes,
You know I'm really
Chillin' all alone,
I'm tryna take a trip to Italy, I'm tryna go to Rome,
Call my brotha f*cken phone,
I told him,Let's talk bro to bro,
Told my brother, keep it close
Look what the f*ck they just chose,
They'd rather be up with them snitches
Instead of up with the bros,
I'd rather be out making money
And making it off the coke,
I got niggas that'll hit your head
And make a ghost,
Uh
Kicked up Blicked up,
Chillin' all alone,
I was really chillin' in these streets,
I'm on my own dawg
Busy ass nigga,
I don't answer on my Phone calls,
Let the phone ring
Until the motherf*ckin tone come,
Ran it all up
Mmm, ran it on my own, dawg,
She's a fine wine dine time on my balls dawg
Suckin' and she won't stop
Always do the most, doe'
I hate it when these bitches fake
But we can take a toast, tho ,
In this life, you know I'm really on my own
I don't f*ck with hoes,
You know I'm really Chillin' all alone
I'm tryna take a trip to Italy, I'm tryna go to Rome
Call my brotha f*cken phone,
I told him, let's talk bro to bro
I got hitters up in CD,
Got another shooter in a C3
Hop out and pop all you on the TV,
It's a F*ckin' homicide,
He's on the scene G,
She call my phone and she like B,
Don't you leave,
I told her, baby, only weed is what I need
I'm tryna spit this shit out too clean, Yeah,
This is how I feel
When I'm all up in the field,
Man I'm tryna keep this real
And now I'm pouring up the potion,
All my shooters cause commotion
(WTM), what's the motion,
I really had to run up my own shit
In this life, you know I'm really on my own,
I don't f*ck with hoes
You know I'm really chillin' all alone,
I'm tryna take a trip to Italy
I'm tryna go to Rome,
Call my brother f*cken phone,
I told him, let's talk bro to bro
Told my brother, keep it close,
Look what the f*ck they just chose
They'd rather be up with them snitches Instead of up with the bros
I'd rather be out makin' money and makin' it Off the coke
I got nigga's that'll hit your head and make you Ghost
I'm really on my own,
I don't f*ck with hoes,
You know I'm really
Chillin' all alone,
I'm tryna take a trip to Italy, I'm tryna go to Rome,
Call my brotha f*cken phone,
I told him,Let's talk bro to bro,
Told my brother, keep it close
Look what the f*ck they just chose,
They'd rather be up with them snitches
Instead of up with the bros,
I'd rather be out making money
And making it off the coke,
I got niggas that'll hit your head
And make a ghost,
Uh
Kicked up Blicked up,
Chillin' all alone,
I was really chillin' in these streets,
I'm on my own dawg
Busy ass nigga,
I don't answer on my Phone calls,
Let the phone ring
Until the motherf*ckin tone come,
Ran it all up
Mmm, ran it on my own, dawg,
She's a fine wine dine time on my balls dawg
Suckin' and she won't stop
Always do the most, doe'
I hate it when these bitches fake
But we can take a toast, tho ,
In this life, you know I'm really on my own
I don't f*ck with hoes,
You know I'm really Chillin' all alone
I'm tryna take a trip to Italy, I'm tryna go to Rome
Call my brotha f*cken phone,
I told him, let's talk bro to bro
I got hitters up in CD,
Got another shooter in a C3
Hop out and pop all you on the TV,
It's a F*ckin' homicide,
He's on the scene G,
She call my phone and she like B,
Don't you leave,
I told her, baby, only weed is what I need
I'm tryna spit this shit out too clean, Yeah,
This is how I feel
When I'm all up in the field,
Man I'm tryna keep this real
And now I'm pouring up the potion,
All my shooters cause commotion
(WTM), what's the motion,
I really had to run up my own shit
In this life, you know I'm really on my own,
I don't f*ck with hoes
You know I'm really chillin' all alone,
I'm tryna take a trip to Italy
I'm tryna go to Rome,
Call my brother f*cken phone,
I told him, let's talk bro to bro
Told my brother, keep it close,
Look what the f*ck they just chose
They'd rather be up with them snitches Instead of up with the bros
I'd rather be out makin' money and makin' it Off the coke
I got nigga's that'll hit your head and make you Ghost
Writer: Bluntz PackzUp, Hadi Alsafi
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid