Nappy Roots Ride Lyrics

The Pursuit of Nappyness Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 Welcome to the Show
  • 2 Do It Big
  • 3 Fishbowl
  • 4 Be Alright
  • 5 Infield
  • 6 How I Do
  • 7 The People
  • 8 Ride
  • 9 Live & Die
  • 10 Back Home
  • 11 Know Bout Me
  • 12 Right Place, Right Time
  • 13 Winner Take All
  • 14 Paint a Picture
  • 15 P.O.N. (Pursuit of Nappyness)
  • 16 All 4 You
  • Yeah, sometimes you just gotta ride

    I'm headed to Savannah, the sun rise there
    And somethin' tellin' me that I should be somewhere near
    I met somebody daughter, played in her water
    The lake was too salty and I'm not Cal Carver
    I was born hard in the paint where the stars hang out
    Just to find out that what they buy ain't bought
    And then I found me, stunt and go the same route
    I do this for the love, you can throw the fame out
    A tear still a tear, even when I change house
    And I am hip-hop, even when I claim south
    What'chu think we all look the same, game is bad
    Cause now we all fightin' for the same damn spot
    Go'on, do da "Stanky Leg"
    It's better than talkin' bout shootin' people in the head
    I'm headed out to Oakland, the sun lies there
    And somethin' tellin' me that I should be somewhere near
    Where we goin'?

    [Chorus]

    Ha
    Just like you thought it wasn't gon' bop
    Yup, it's how I know it wasn't gon' flop
    Sometimes you got to give it all you got
    Even though a few folk keep wishin' that you stop
    But after that, another classic we gon' drop
    And I ain't talkin' bout no fancy mansion or no yacht
    Just a quarter pound of pot on my forty acre lot
    Wit my Caddy coupe and drop, and a Range Rover spot
    I mean sport, sometimes I lose my train of thought
    But I'm back again and promise that every track is hot
    We gon' hit some traffic headed to the top
    So we gon' take another route and simply creep right past the cops
    And the haters man, they comin' for my spot
    But we don't have to talk, come on get it while it's hot
    Fresh out the skillet, never feel it or you're not
    We gon' verti-cal grille it, watch me sell it on the block

    [Chorus]

    The sun don't move, the earth don't stop
    The stars do drop, and they house foreclose
    Cars repo'ed, business get towed
    Probably be a friend and sell the story out the bowl
    Then they can't see theyself back in the hood
    Can't let they friends know they not doin good
    See you lay low, and focus on ya kids
    Hope somebody remember somethin' that ya did

    Yeah
    And if they did, then you gon' trip
    Grind for seven days a week, and then you watch it flip
    Legit is wicked clean, that's how it seems that the chips
    Gotta dig a little deep, you wanna see about the grit
    The grass gets mighty green by the fence
    Which side is the question? I'm headed that direction
    Knowledge is the weapon, and I use it for protection
    If you think I'm really slippin', then run up and learn ya lesson

    [Chorus]

    Written by: George Jones, Starleana Endia Young, Stephen Washington, Mark Hicks, Daniel Webster, Raymond Guy Turner, Mark Adams, Graham Vernon Massey, Gerald Simpson
    Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Ultra Tunes, BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC

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