Lyrics On My Own - Blended Babies, The Cool Kids, Lorine Chia

On My Own

Live from the mic where we customize raps
We write the whole check, don’t split
Incense billow in the room
I’mma take this and chill
Make medication for that, now pop a pill
Slow, like a snail in a rap
What’s the real deal get the baggages packed
Good job, let me send you this postcard
Stamps cost an arm and a leg, congratulate y’all
Don’t drop it, you had it in your hands
with short arms, gotta learn how to throw it far
The nature of me, San Diego Chargers
Dodgers, managers, Tommy
with glasses, toast
This is what we came here for, take notes
Outside in the storm and I’m sittin' on the
Sellin' umbrellas, jackets and raincoats
Ain’t no givin' my soul
Ain’t nobody I owe
I’mma just go on my own
Know I gotta make this dough
I couldn’t settle for the ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda'
So I took my shot like a 15-footer
Backboard glass nigga and I still throw my setup mans
M-Town, M’s down better clear the lane
When we charge through, my homeboys feel the same
Can’t let that time writtin' rhymes all go in vain
Grab this dog by the chain til I’m ridin' in that thing
That’s all that I really want, the car, some change
You gotta chill, bump into that table make the pasta spill
They gonna charge you for the bill, your pop as well
Man I had fish fillet with the pasta shells
I’m feelin' cleaner than a mobster, they watch us well
This industry is like Contra if they don’t really want you
In there, been there, done that, run back, run laps
‘round most niggas with ease, we posted in the Keyes of Florida
Offshore and they hopin' that we leave
But we already sorta set up shop for the week
Boat shoes on a boat, both passenger seats is filled in
Glass bottom floor you can build in