Текст Mike G – I Suppose

I might go slip her a pill, she might go slip out them jeans
Honey go and show your fixed face, fat ass, thin waist
Dancin’ on the table like your dignity was misplaced
Missplelled with a «z» at the end
Once them panties go off you’ll never see me again
See me dapperin’ in pea coat, struttin’ like a peacock
See the watch that he got sellin’, fuck that ain’t no G-Shock
Presidental Rolex, diamond studded Casio
Calculating numbers with a couple drug runners, yo
Stoop kid never left his stoop, ’til he got enough dough
To go and buy him a coup
If you ain’t talkin’ ’bout loot, go ahead and keep it on mute
I’m ballin’ out at Popeyes in my three piece suit right
I’ll take a two piece, fries and a biscuit
Here today, gone tomorrow, blink and you’ll miss it
I’m from a different world and I’m only here to visit
So you got to let me probe if you want to come and kick it

Syd & SPEAK!:
I like to ride that ferris wheel
I just wanna ride my bicycle, you know the deal
I liked you better when your eyes were closed
It don’t get better much better than this, I suppose
It can’t get much worse than this, I suppose
It don’t get much better than this, I suppose
No, I suppose, I suppose

Mike G:

Now I’m asking, «Where do we go?»
Don’t, stay for whole episodes, we finishing shows but
The way my schedule goes I won’t see you ’till next season
I can tell she believes, I keep her for various reasons
And if, she doesn’t write at night I tell you what you like in fights
I might tell her she’s right, I have six reasons to leave her
I choose the rolls of a dice, so you have to play your part
Cause you should be captured in art
And they look better in the dark
Conflict sets us apart, so I’d rather not start
Flow propane from flames if our hearts might spark
And candles are only lit so we can see where we walk
Because she got a cake, I love it when she talk that talk
I feel great, you should too, you work to deserve it
So the cost might add up if you show me that you worth it
We copping weight and when we down South, we chop and blaze
Or on the interstate, gold grills and Versace shades

Syd & SPEAK!:
I like to ride that ferris wheel
I just wanna ride my bicycle, you know the deal
I liked you better when your eyes were closed
It don’t get better much better than this, I suppose
It can’t get much worse than this, I suppose
It don’t get much better than this, I suppose
No, I suppose, I suppose