Testo Right Where I'm Supposed to Be - Kevin Gates
Testo della canzone Right Where I'm Supposed to Be (Kevin Gates), tratta dall'album I'm Him 2
(I'm shoppin' with Mills, baby)
Married my hustle, came up out the slums, we eloped with it
Mama, look, your favorite son a big dope dealer
Told me pick something I'm good at, a trophy
The metric-ton load, safe to say that I'm dope with it (no assumptions)
I ain't thinkin', I know it, cartel where I'm goin'
The fedora brim had a bend, had the shirt button bust open
Tatted up bad, complemented my swag
I'm a bricklayer, chick give a glance, I'ma fuck on her
Find out my partner wan' tap, I can't love on her
Simple, you get in your feelings and cuff on her
On this holy divine day, I hereby manifest
The big-body, all-black Range Rover Autobiography SV
With the brains blowed out, with the yellow calibers
The same energy in the universe is the same energy in me
And with that energy, I command it to be
(I'm right here where I'm supposed to be)
Skilled in some areas, shooter like Stephen
If I'm in your area, brandish your weapon
I'll send you to heaven without second guessin' it
Walkin' off calmly, and tuck my accessories
New holdin' company, we assessin' it
I'm not compromisin', I got out my body
Still apologizin' to my neck and wrist
Newborn baby cryin', had a naked wrist
Ice on my fingers and both of my wrists
My emerald-cut pendants, don't know what neglection is
Babysit bricks, tryna take all my children
The CPS come, but they know what protection is
Secret compartment, don't know where my weapon is, whoo
Shout out my Mexican, whoo
I'm in the transport package land, turn where I stand to a dance floor
She think it's cute, love the way I be movin'
Feelin' real groovy, don't know how to dance, though
We out in public, when we finished eatin'
We interlock fingers, she can't let my hands go
This not a grill, I can floss in between 'em
My diamonds be twinklin' whenever I'm speakin' (bling blaow, bling blaow)
I'm a big eagle, they peep my demeanor
Without even thinkin', she's lovin' my swag, though
(I'm right here where I'm supposed to be)
Facts, shout out her old nigga
He did not want her to grow bigger, mama, mama
Your favorite son don't do no trippin'
Bae, this my mama, mama, this bae
Your favorite son a big dope dealer
Say you want grand babies, I'm 'bout to make you some
Take her home, bathe her, and dope dick her
Bae, you're that thang, and I'm that thang
We 'bout to make us some dope children
One other thing
They not gon' ever be dope dealers
I'm right here where I'm supposed to be
Credits
Writer(s): Kevin Gilyard, Jamil Alleyne, Rijhay Sampson
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