paroles de chanson Rolling (Outro) - Satin Suede

Keep Rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling
Rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling
Rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling (Ladies and gentlemen, Suede is in the building)
Rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling
Rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling
Rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling
Rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling
They don't know what I mean when I say that I'm high
But bitch we lit, come on fuck with this fire
Say we ain't poppin yous a motherfucking liar
Bitch we lit come on fuck with this fire
They don't know what I mean when I say that I'm high
But bitch we lit, come on fuck with this fire
Say we ain't poppin yous a motherfucking liar
Bitch we lit come on fuck with this fire

Getting faded til I'm gone. Bwoy what a gwan
Shit I'm tryna live life. Tell me where yah from
I'm from the 758 nigga, but I rep the 401
Tell them we a lurk inna di street in a di heat
Til we toppa top don
Young nigga live, what can a nigga give?
I ain't trippin I'm just tryna learn the biz
To quaote every young nigga "It is what it is"
Bwoy what yah know?
Hear dem a say you fi glow, anyting or anyting how yah roll
See di bwoy dem a know you affi go with di flow

They don't know what I mean when I say that I'm high
But bitch we lit, come on fuck with this fire
Say we ain't poppin yous a motherfucking liar
Bitch we lit come on fuck with this fire
They don't know what I mean when I say that I'm high
But bitch we lit, come on fuck with this fire
Say we ain't poppin yous a motherfucking liar
Bitch we lit come on fuck with this fire

Ladies and gentlemen, Suede is in the building
Flow on abortion, I came to make a killing
Get it? I'm sorry, if you're offended
Matter of fact, fuck your feelings
I'm through with the pretending
My niggas sent me beats for fun I gave yall an album
They like, "He's a DJ, why the fuck is he rapping?"
But Suede's an ill spitter nigga ain't no second guessing
God with the flow I bless the beat like a reverend
I'll rap til I'm dead, I'll spit til I'm gone
Holyfield with the hooks, peep anyone of my songs
They taking shots but really they just some marks
I buss back like Rosa Parks, your flow weak

Suede. Suede! Suede! What the fuck? Yo there's cops outside
Fuck