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{{Template:Lyrics|Supreme| | |||
Supreme talks about his baby's mother like a whore | |||
Sweet 16 she is, with future uncertain, love incomplete | |||
Soapy days for Jr. and she | |||
At 3, Supreme comes to give his boy a pat and a pound | |||
Put his hoodie on the couch, his Timberlands up on the chair | |||
So his bitch can bring him a beer | |||
"So, this is the Nuclear family?" | |||
Mommy, baby, and Daddy makes a mess of his baby's mother's hair | |||
As they fuck 'til her mother comes in from work | |||
She's playing house, he's playing man | |||
And Jr. is the only one who accepts he's just a child | |||
Wild nights she had with a swish of her stuff | |||
Knocked up to a waddle, a baby carriage bustle and still gets her play | |||
But her dream is true romance, well sorta, everyday from 3 to 6 | |||
Supreme leaves out before Mommy comes kick his lazy narrow behind back onto the street | |||
He's not a corner boy | |||
The bodega in the 40's is midblock where bullets flock | |||
No names engraved and he may be next | |||
Shielded by the patron saint of the brothers | |||
Being there is all there is | |||
Living lovely without turning the corner | |||
Reaching for a swig brings sweat to his brow and shit to his mouth | |||
Dispelling knowledge on the stuffs | |||
The pleasing things the baby's mother do | |||
Dousing the sidewalk with wretch of a boyman | |||
Breaking Friday night to seek manhood in a paper bag | |||
Says, "Fatherhood is real cool and the kid looks like me | |||
So she better not let nothing happen to him or I’ma kill the bitch" | |||
Sudden twitch to the roll of the wheel | |||
Trained steel stained blue puts punk on the wall | |||
For some trumped up call from precinct 101 | |||
Monday at 3, the baby's mother waits | |||
Jr. in her arms, patiently at the door | |||
Doesn't know what she misses | |||
Locked into the routine, a project queen | |||
Supreme rode off into the sunset with a 3 to 6 all his own | |||
Took a week for her to find out, a minute to promise devotion | |||
Her life on hold as Supreme calls checking on his boy (and the baby's mother) | |||
Life on the outside ain't even worth it | |||
Shit. Who screwed whom? | |||
There’s not enough room in the pen for them both to stay | |||
Locked into their little worlds they will | |||
Leather gear, X skullie, Size 2 Docs | |||
Man, Jr.’s the fliest shit in nursery care | |||
Paid for by W.I.C., so who's getting dicked? | |||
Who reigns supreme? | |||
|Samantha Coerbell|℗ 2000 Mute Records Limited}} | |||
{{Template:Unplayed}} | {{Template:Unplayed}} | ||
Revision as of 19:51, 13 November 2019
Lyrics
Supreme
Supreme talks about his baby's mother like a whore
Sweet 16 she is, with future uncertain, love incomplete
Soapy days for Jr. and she
At 3, Supreme comes to give his boy a pat and a pound
Put his hoodie on the couch, his Timberlands up on the chair
So his bitch can bring him a beer
"So, this is the Nuclear family?"
Mommy, baby, and Daddy makes a mess of his baby's mother's hair
As they fuck 'til her mother comes in from work
She's playing house, he's playing man
And Jr. is the only one who accepts he's just a child
Wild nights she had with a swish of her stuff
Knocked up to a waddle, a baby carriage bustle and still gets her play
But her dream is true romance, well sorta, everyday from 3 to 6
Supreme leaves out before Mommy comes kick his lazy narrow behind back onto the street
He's not a corner boy
The bodega in the 40's is midblock where bullets flock
No names engraved and he may be next
Shielded by the patron saint of the brothers
Being there is all there is
Living lovely without turning the corner
Reaching for a swig brings sweat to his brow and shit to his mouth
Dispelling knowledge on the stuffs
The pleasing things the baby's mother do
Dousing the sidewalk with wretch of a boyman
Breaking Friday night to seek manhood in a paper bag
Says, "Fatherhood is real cool and the kid looks like me
So she better not let nothing happen to him or I’ma kill the bitch"
Sudden twitch to the roll of the wheel
Trained steel stained blue puts punk on the wall
For some trumped up call from precinct 101
Monday at 3, the baby's mother waits
Jr. in her arms, patiently at the door
Doesn't know what she misses
Locked into the routine, a project queen
Supreme rode off into the sunset with a 3 to 6 all his own
Took a week for her to find out, a minute to promise devotion
Her life on hold as Supreme calls checking on his boy (and the baby's mother)
Life on the outside ain't even worth it
Shit. Who screwed whom?
There’s not enough room in the pen for them both to stay
Locked into their little worlds they will
Leather gear, X skullie, Size 2 Docs
Man, Jr.’s the fliest shit in nursery care
Paid for by W.I.C., so who's getting dicked?
Who reigns supreme?
Songwriter: Samantha Coerbell
Publishing Information: ℗ 2000 Mute Records Limited
Dates where Supreme was played
Supreme has never been played live.