[Intro] Backroad dust in my rearview City glow in my eyes Got one boot on the gas pedal Other toe on the line (yeah) [Verse 1] Mama said “boy, keep your head bowed” Daddy said “stand up, don’t back down” Preacher said “follow the right crowd” World said “post it, make them proud” (hey) I’ve been torn between prayer and the pressure Sunday shirt, but I’m chasing this treasure Small-town name in these big-city letters Tryna stitch both lives in this leather [Chorus] I don’t know who I’m supposed to be Saint on Sunday, sinner all week Halo crooked on this fitted T I’m just tryna breathe, tryna breathe If I’m lost then that’s on me But I’m stuck between my roots and dream Everybody got a plan for me Who I’m supposed to be, supposed to be [Verse 2] Truck bed tailgate, first tattoo First time that I lied, “yeah, I got you” Said I’d stay, then I left, that’s a bad truth Now my heart’s in the ash of the backroom (woo) I’ve been drowning in the “you should” voices Scrollin’ through a thousand better choices But that quiet in my chest gets noisy When I act like I’m someone I ain’t, it destroys me [Chorus] I don’t know who I’m supposed to be Saint on Sunday, sinner all week Halo crooked on this fitted T I’m just tryna breathe, tryna breathe If I’m lost then that’s on me But I’m stuck between my roots and dream Everybody got a plan for me Who I’m supposed to be, supposed to be [Bridge] Maybe I ain’t broken, just in between (in between) Every “yeah you got this” and every “you should leave” (you should leave) Maybe all this pressure gonna bend my knees Till I finally stand up as the realest me (yeah) [Chorus] I don’t know who I’m supposed to be Saint on Sunday, sinner all week Halo crooked on this fitted T I’m just tryna breathe, tryna breathe If I’m lost then that’s on me But I’m stuck between my roots and dream Everybody got a plan for me Who I’m supposed to be, supposed to be (supposed to be)

rap, Melodic rap over trap-country fusion: twangy picked acoustic guitar and dusty slide licks tucked under hard-hitting 808s and sharp claps. Verses ride mid-tempo, synth-forward with spacious pads and sub-heavy low end; hook explodes with bass-boosted drops, stacked harmonies, and a sticky singalong top line. Male vocals, half-sung half-spit, with ad-lib echoes and subtle pitch effects on key phrases., country

Who I’m Supposed To Be