Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I Suppose, artist - Nappy Roots. Date of issue: 24.09.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
I Suppose |
| Gettin' money wasn’t peaceful |
| Paper trails and clientele and good refer I was cheifin' Momma… (I'm sorry) |
| Change around my life, I feel like all I do propel call me dynamite |
| Winter snow cold, I pull up in the Pelle no my shit don’t get old |
| Rings on CD’s in the sun hot I’m shinning, like lightning |
| Never pairing good smoke from my foes, I suppose |
| New gods sporting on my shit so righteous |
| Cocaina flow I get you off through the sinus |
| I ain’t got no beef I leave that shit all behind us |
| I suppose, I suppose |
| I’m In a Honda Accord |
| One of the boys |
| Thinking life can be enjoyed |
| By the same things that annoy you |
| Now we mix more cannabinoids in our florals |
| Women be like dam Fishscales' you just so cordial |
| I grew up in the sticks with the outhouses |
| Big pastures out back |
| Somehow we still found crack |
| Never did know I was Po until they told me |
| Then I start looking round like got dam this country owes me |
| Bad liver, from years of corn liquor |
| You want to stop but it don’t fit ya |
| The only reason half of any of us hang, is cause we all struggle |
| Don’t get caught on the trestle |
| That shit’ll crush you |
| And get ya money |
| Cause they dying to come arrest you |
| Gettin' money wasn’t peaceful |
| Paper trails and clientele and good refer I was cheifin' Momma… (I'm sorry) |
| Change around my life, I feel like all I do propel call me dynamite |
| Winter snow cold, I pull up in the Pelle no my shit don’t get old |
| Rings on CD’s in the sun hot I’m shinning, like lightning |
| Never pairing good smoke from my foes, I suppose |
| Yesterday was pay day, and I just got the rent paid |
| Livin' my life in the best way, fuck what y’all niccas think |
| I’m thankful, nah better yet I’m grateful, that I can afford the shit I pay for |
| You niccas ain’t on my radar |
| I’m grinding for what I pray for |
| Family is what I’ll slay for |
| Come test me now, I’m comin' up from the basement door, so brace for more |
| Niccas is out here, with hate galore |
| I’m just tryin to get the paper, score |
| Another lick, you think we think we slick |
| Then wait until the neighbors snore |
| 3 in the morning, grinding, money on my minding |
| My own business driving from Florida up to Wisconsin |
| Grown man shit, pistol in his hand like Charles Bronson |
| Shout out to action, and all the shows that he got poppin' |
| Until the wheels falls, failure is not an option |
| Gettin' money wasn’t peaceful |
| Paper trails and clientele and good refer I was cheifin' Momma… (I'm sorry) |
| Change around my life, I feel like all I do propel call me dynamite |
| Winter snow cold, I pull up in the Pelle no my shit don’t get old |
| Rings on CD’s in the sun hot I’m shinning, like lightning |
| Never pairing good smoke from my foes, I suppose |
| I suppose |
| Front porch, cold beer, future looking so clear |
| Oh dear, set the tone and elevate, folk-lift |
| Moving different now a day, maxing out a power play |
| Only time I’m boxed in is gripping wood in Chevrolet |
| Off white, Chevy Chase, bend a comer foggy morning |
| (Ugh)… platinum cookie salad that’s a sweet aroma |
| Country girl in sexy panties stirring macaroni |
| Living life in ways to multiply special moments |
| Rising above it… smoking in public |
| Tequila in buckets… money the subject |
| Thankful and grateful, behavior on some country boy |
| Praying everyday I see is filled with joy… ugh |
| I suppose |