Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song On Her Own , by - Payroll Giovanni. Release date: 29.01.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
On Her Own |
| Oh, oh |
| Yeah |
| Oh-oh-oh |
| Tell you what I like |
| She the type to get to the paper |
| You know |
| How she got that car |
| Oh, oh |
| Gotta, she gotta |
| That’s how you let 'em know |
| She only fuck with the best, never settle for less |
| Diamond quality VS, from her wrist to her neck |
| Lames come around and flex, but she never impressed |
| What you spent on that chain, she blow on that summer set |
| And the bags cost a bag, she hurtin' bitches' feelings when she brag |
| The shit that just not gettin', she done had |
| That’s her lifestyle, she rock the Rollie with the ice dial |
| Watermark iced out, tellin' niggas to pipe down |
| Tryna ball on her, she gon' ball on you |
| Poppin' bottles ain’t new, shit, she pop bottles too |
| She at the crib by two, wake up and handle business |
| Stack her own digits, ain’t dependin' on no niggas |
| Classy, but nasty, but you’ll never know |
| 'Cause she don’t carry herself like a ho, and that’s for sure |
| I seen her at the Gucci store, we had the same coat |
| And mines cost me four stacks, yeah, baby ain’t a joke |
| Yeah, yeah, she done bought the pendants on her own |
| She know how to get it on her own |
| Yeah, she the type to grind even later |
| Always gettin' to the paper (Gettin' to the paper) |
| That’s how she got that car own her own |
| How she got that crib on her own |
| Gotta get to the paper, gotta stunt on these haters |
| Yeah, that’s how you let 'em know |
| She got her own crib out in the burbs where the lawyers live |
| Gated community, no loiterin', that’s order shit |
| Walk-in closet, but she mainly in the office |
| Watchin' her business, makin' sure it ain’t fallin' |
| Independent ballin', 'bout to open up a shop |
| The same way I used to get a crop and open up the block |
| But her money all legal, she don’t be in the street |
| She don’t know who got killed and what crews got beef |
| She ain’t out every night all caught in the hype |
| When she out, it’s hella rare, she gon' make 'em stare twice |
| Goddamn, she my type, that’s the shit a nigga like |
| That make me wanna spoil her and keep her neck bright |
| I swear a boss ass bitch is my kryptonite |
| Against the rules, but you can pull up to my crib tonight |
| And when I met her at the door, she rocked the long Louis coat |
| With some 1942, goddamn, I love you |
| Yeah, yeah, she done bought the pendants on her own |
| She know how to get it on her own |
| Yeah, she the type to grind even later |
| Always gettin' to the paper (Gettin' to the paper) |
| That’s how she got that car own her own (She got that car) |
| How she got that crib on her own |
| Gotta get to the paper, gotta stunt on these haters |
| Yeah, that’s how you let 'em know |
| Oh, oh |
| Oh-oh-oh |
| She the type to get to the paper |
| How she got that car |
| Oh, oh |
| Gotta, she gotta |
| That’s how you let 'em know |