My Own Freeway & Jake One (Ft. Sauce Walka)
"My Own" by Freeway & Jake One (Ft. Sauce Walka) blends hip-hop and rap (#HipHop), released in 2019. The song explores themes of independence, personal struggles, and resilience. Lyrically, it emphasizes self-reliance and overcoming adversity. The beat features hard-hitting production, showcasing a mix of traditional and modern elements, reflecting the artists' roots and cultural influence in contemporary rap.
[Intro: Freeway]
Love's gonna get you
[Verse 1: Freeway]
Niggas rap game's pitiful but I'm a different individual
No pen and pad, I live it, think some bars then spit a few
If it's time to come for you, my niggas actually get at you
How I spit is critical, they feeling every syllable
Say he's just a criminal, I say get off my genitals
Tryna get that dinner plate, but really, I'm a gentle soul
Manners doing business, everybody at the dealer know
These rap niggas my sons, they still attached to that umbilical
Mad there was no way to find a flow that is identical
If they try to write the shit, I think them niggas pens will burst
Y'all brothers only spin the block, we actually spin the globe
Chasing wifey round the dinner table, left the dinner cold
Cross the clique, that shit will get you injured and your men exposed
Try to roll up on me, while I'm dolo and the fifth will burst
Someone tell his homie, go and get the nurse, if this gets worse
They'll be picking caskets out and hearses, now the issue's closed
I got that money and that fame, y'all know how this shit goes
Chicks wanna kiss you, like you standing under mistletoes
And everybody got an issue with you
Niggas that blew up with you
Down to leave you missing if your wrist too froze
Love's gonna get you
[Verse 1: Freeway]
Niggas rap game's pitiful but I'm a different individual
No pen and pad, I live it, think some bars then spit a few
If it's time to come for you, my niggas actually get at you
How I spit is critical, they feeling every syllable
Say he's just a criminal, I say get off my genitals
Tryna get that dinner plate, but really, I'm a gentle soul
Manners doing business, everybody at the dealer know
These rap niggas my sons, they still attached to that umbilical
Mad there was no way to find a flow that is identical
If they try to write the shit, I think them niggas pens will burst
Y'all brothers only spin the block, we actually spin the globe
Chasing wifey round the dinner table, left the dinner cold
Cross the clique, that shit will get you injured and your men exposed
Try to roll up on me, while I'm dolo and the fifth will burst
Someone tell his homie, go and get the nurse, if this gets worse
They'll be picking caskets out and hearses, now the issue's closed
I got that money and that fame, y'all know how this shit goes
Chicks wanna kiss you, like you standing under mistletoes
And everybody got an issue with you
Niggas that blew up with you
Down to leave you missing if your wrist too froze
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