Lyrics My Own - Styles P , Whispers

My Own"
Yeah, it is what it is
Tell ′em ain't no me
Feel me?
Vinny Idol, n*gga
Streets know the aura, Tommy guns, fedoras
Watch for the creeps, the peeps on the corner
Mommy read Genesis, I cred the Torah
Supposed to be righteous but I love the horror
Was thrilled by crime
I can′t believe I let a motherf*ckin' dollar bill kill my mind
Dull my senses, steal my shine
It took a strong will from me to heal my mind
Still, I'm blind ′cause still I grind
This ain′t Astrology but feel my sign
Ghost walk his path align, feel his rap align
'Cause I kick sh*t that make the pastor cry
Weed pacify or pass the time
Got the soul of a slave with a mastermind
Get real ill, make a statue cry
′Cause gettin' real deep, that′s a knack of mine
But f*ck accolades, blow a splif and get kicks off a [?] page
Homie, put the MAC away
You either live or you die slow
Might you burn O's and hide dough from 5-0
I′m John Doe in the Tahoe
Glow in the dark how a spark'll leave your mind blown
My time's up in your time zone,
Still on the flow but, my n*gga, I′m a ride on
Ghost
I be on my own sh*t, all about that dough sh*t
Greedy mother f*cker on that low sh*t
I be on my own sh*t, all about that dough sh*t
Grease a eighty-eight, that′s that blow sh*t
I be on my own sh*t
This is all from the school of hard knocks
From Wyo to Far Rock, I'm the n*gga they play on the hard blocks
What′s the meaning of time when you lookin' at God clock?
Speakin′ on the patterns in the sky
N*ggas make rules up and break 'em, but I′m adamant with mine
Catalyst for crime, talk sh*t I'm shatterin' your spine
′Cause I ain′t get a ladder for the climb
Nah, no ropes, no hikin' sh*t
Had to play Valhalla on some vikin′ sh*t
But never snitch gone on the deal
Live n*ggas keep it real, go out on they shield
No longer doin' crime but I could pass a line
Take a couple points, hit a joint, that is by design
Tradition kept, surprised a lotta n*ggas ain′t missin' yet
Just ′cause they ain't listen yet
I know they deaf but they ain't get the vision yet
Who am I to judge?
Only robe I wear is from the ′telly on the balcony
Blowin′ on the bud
And I ain't got a ego, I could show a n*gga love
I got a Desert Eagle that could show a n*gga mud
Di*k in the dirt, floor wet ′cause of the blood
To tell the truth, n*gga, I rather give you a hug
And you just mad 'cause of the plug
I know what it is, not what it was
I be on my own sh*t, all about that dough sh*t
Greedy mother f*cker on that low sh*t
I be on my own sh*t, all about that dough sh*t
Grease a eighty-eight, that′s that blow sh*t
I be on my own sh*t