Untitled Song
• Written by aRoB
I'm sitting on a train chair
this shit will be my last hit
hit from the life
i don't see the line
where i can go
i don't have a home
i wanna run away from my past
'cuz it's closed my way
I'm 16, but im working in one MCD
maybe tomorrow i will be a rich
damn, if i have a money
i will buy washington DC
or new york
i dunno know
maybe tomorrow, i will be a rich
like a saw machine
i destroy every richie
i hate everthing, take me as a king
king of the shit
i don't have a money
that enough honey
i will be a poor
'cuz i don't have this shit more
i praying everyday
dear god don't take my way
damn, i see my blood in the street
i was eight-teen
when i get a bullet
bullet from a 9 millimeter
like one arrow iny my chest
this shit take my head
or the meth?
we always looking for answers
but we always find hunters
hunters who hunting you
this hunter is you, they hating you
you need a doctor, who sold your problems
before you become a homeless,
i using a pistol to make your dreams
this money coming from stores
you don't need to stole
when your're one asshole
you make this shit
do this again
before they kick your ass
Feedback & Comments
About the Artist
aRoB
Member since January 1 2017