Right Where I’m Supposed To Be Lyrics – Kevin Gates

Read the full Right Where I’m Supposed To Be lyrics by Kevin Gates along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Kevin Gates’s music, you can also explore Same Way and Brasi The Eagle, two other songs by Kevin Gates.

Emotions caught wheeling inside
A lot of them pop, metalized trauma
I ain’t never talked with you about mine
Swear I’m gonna kill me a n!gga mama
I ain’t even talk, the b!tch dying
They said, hurt people, hurt people
B!tch, I’m destroyed on the inside

I’m shopping with this, baby
Marry my hustle, came up out the slum, we were low with it
Mama, look—your favorite son, a big dope dealer
Told me, picks up, I’m good at a trophy
A metric ton, low, safe to say that I’m dope with it
No assumptions, I ain’t thinking, I know
A quartier where I’m going
The four-door, a brumme had to bend that
His shirt wasn’t bust open and tattered up
They complimenting my swag—I’m a brick-layer
Check, give a glance, I’ma fu*k on them
Find my partner on top, I can’t look on them
Before you get in your feelings and cup on

On this holy divine day, I hereby manifest
A big-body all-black range rover autobiography sv
With the brains blown out, with the yellow calibers
The same energy in the universe is the same energy in me
And with that energy, I command defeat

Skilled in some area, shooter like steph
If I’m in your area, brandish your weapon
I’ll send you to heaven without second guessing
Walking off calm—that took my accessory
New holding company, we assessing it
I’m not compromising, I got out my body
Still apologizing to my neck and wrist
Newborn baby crying, had a naked wrist
Ice on my fingers and both on my wrist

It’s my emerald cup pendant—don’t know what neglect is
Baby see rick’s, tryna take all my children
If cps come, they know what protection is
Secret compartment—don’t know what my weapon is
I don’t know what my weapon is
I’m in the transport, package lane
Turn where I stand into a dance floor

She thinks it’s cute, loves the way I be moving
Feeling regrouping, don’t know how to dance though
We out in public, when we finish eating
We interlocked fingers, she can’t let my hands go
It’s not a grill—i could floss in between them
My diamonds—when I’m in the ring, I’m always twinkling
Whenever I’m speaking, I’m a big leader
They peep my demeanor without even thinking
She loving my swag though

Babe, shout out to old n!gga—
He did not want her to grow bigger
Mama, mama, your favorite son don’t do no tripping
Babe, this is my mama—mama, this is babe
Your favorite son, a big dope dipper
Say you want grandbabies, I’m about to make you some
Take her home, bathe her and dope dip her
Babe, you that thing and I’m that thing
And on that thing, we about to make us some dope children
One other thing—they not gonna ever be dope pillers