Back Roads - Nappy Roots

Back roads, country shit

Rollin' dope, bunch of shit

Granny house, 30 deep

Gold teeth, bare feet

Where I go you never know

A country road you’ll never go

24s, country shit

All we know is country shit

Back road, country shit

I’m rollin' dope, gotta bunch of shit

My neighbor just got home, but not from a bid

He been overseas fighting, now home wit his kids

The rich can’t feel like the poorest

We was Po eating grits at my aunt Lois

Had the time of my life we was so stoic

Didn’t have much but you wouldn’t know it

Now granny gone, my uncle gone

I’m runnin' out of reasons to make it back home

To my family looking down from the heavens above

See me rolling thru the sticks just doing what I love

On a back road, country shit

Rollin' dope, bunch of shit

Granny house, 30 deep

Gold teeth, bare feet

Where I go you never know

A country road you’ll never go

24s, country shit

All we know is country shit

Train tracks, I’m from the other side

Caddy Coupes, we blowing country fried

Winding roads, and not a cop in sight

Stars out, shining on your darkest night

Small town living, all they do is fight

And all we do is 'dis, sawed off with the pistol grip

Back it up, then talk yo' shit

She’s acting up, she’s not yo' bitch

Country chic, that’s not my cousin

Don’t hit the legion, them fools be bussin'

Front porch, my uncle cussing

Drunk as all out doors, kids outside they double dutching

I’m double clutching, sippin' on some Atlantucky

My family is forever hustling, forward, the plan it must be

No looking back, there’s no getting rusty

If I’m a speak it to existence you gon' have to trust me

I understand, new things need adjusting

Life is short, it ain’t no guarantee, just keep on trucking

Back road, country shit

Rollin' dope, bunch of shit

Granny house, 30 deep

Gold teeth, bare feet

Where I go you never know

A country road you’ll never go

24s, country shit

All we know is country shit

And yea I’m from the South but I dress Western

They call me Buffalo, I’m built like a ex-wrestler

Brock Lesnar, ice on my hip flexor

Jacuzzi suite, top floor at the Best Western

Dusty cowboy boots wit a fresh Stetson

Lumps of coal turn to diamonds when you add pressure

Catch me running thru my paper like a fast tester

I want da new King Ranch, not the next Tesla

First class jet setter, I ain’t that special

Buddy pass in the exit row, leg stretcher

I’m a seafood, soul food TexMexer

So keep ya tofu, soybean, veg lecturers

To yourself cuz my mouth can’t stand the texture

Flick you off wit both hands like I’m ambidextrous

Got my good draws on and they polyester

Eyeing down your heifer makin' naughty gestures

Country shit

Back road, country shit

Rollin' dope, bunch of shit

Granny house, 30 deep

Gold teeth, bare feet

Where I go you never know

A country road you’ll never go

24s, country shit

All we know is country shit