Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song All out on My Own, artist - Shyheim. Album song This Iz Real, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 27.05.1996
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Noo Trybe
Song language: English
All out on My Own |
| Yo, what the deal? |
| Criminals, what up? |
| We’re not born we’re created |
| From the streets |
| And this goes out to all my thugs, criminals, ballers, hustlers |
| Big up to self, Big up to self |
| Get y’all weight up |
| No diggity, No doubt |
| G.P. |
| Wu, Yo drop my shit right now |
| I gotta get my weight up |
| Fuck eight balls I’m flippin kilos |
| Did dirt so now I lay low from street foes |
| Broke niggas and bitches wanna take what I got |
| Tell the jakes about my spots |
| They mad cuz I make a lot |
| From Monday through Sunday I see about a million |
| Run with thugs that’s down for killin, civilians |
| I’m thug related, pack nuff heat, they call me fire |
| Niggas fear my verbal technique cuz I’m Kaiser |
| So say I represent the ghetto worldwide |
| Bust techs, puff lye |
| From A to Z’s Doe or Die |
| Fuck around and get lifted off this Earth |
| Take my word for what it’s worth |
| I put that on the turf |
| Chorus: (Squig) |
| I’m all out on my own, I’m goin out son |
| I’m all out on my own, I’m goin out (dun) |
| I’m all out on my own, I’m goin out |
| (Like Patty LaBelle said I’m out on my own) |
| I’m all out on my own like Al Capone |
| Cuz niggas want my dome, so I pack a 4 lb. chrome |
| Stash it near my nuts in the front |
| But keep it in arm distance cuz I’m gonna have to bust |
| The first victim that comes too close to me and shit |
| My clips packed up thick legit and victed |
| To go to war at any given time |
| I gotta protect me and mine |
| Before the damn flat line |
| I’m still young but I’m growin up mad fast |
| Treated like trash and dumped out on my ass |
| No one understands me but me |
| Nobody cares about how I feel but me |
| So what I gotta do is do for me |
| I wonder how that be goin all out for me |
| I got mad problems but I try to deal wit em |
| I wish that I could fight em |
| And shoot the fear one wit em |
| But the devil keeps on hawkin me |
| My soul he wantin G |
| But that shit I can’t see |
| I had many dreams of being a star in the NBA |
| But they got thrown away when I saw them slingin yay |
| I put the ball down, picked the ounce up, then I read up |
| Now I’m 200 G’s up and on my uptown |
| To meet up with these big druglords from Cuba |
| I don’t trust em like a chickenhead so I’m bring the luger |
| And my 19−9-6 shot beamer |
| Flying on the West Side highway, that’s when I seen her |
| Van full of jiggy |
| Oh now they wanna get me |
| At full pushin 80 max while I’m hittin the buck 50 |
| Niggas know Dig me blazin the la-la |
| The weed keep me zoned word to Taiwana |
| K-basa baby, you know who loves you girl |
| Young wild thugs we rule the world |
| (Squig) |
| Yea, Uh, I’d like to give a mad big up |
| (No doubt, represent) |
| Respect to the 2 Cent click |
| B-I, my man Ty motha fuckin D |
| (What up Ski?) |
| One time, Squig, word up, Vin-cent |
| Redman, Rubba-Rubba-Rubbabandz |
| Hah hah, and it, and it don’t stop |