BAG

Un OK ok
OK ok
Ok OKAAY
Mark g man fuck going on

Bag on a
Bag on a shoe but you ain't caught me walking
Bag on your boo but I ain't bought her nothing
Bag on me too what you was tryna purchase

Fashion seduced her I ain't tell her nothing
Bag on a garment probably wore it tossed it
Pads in my cargo on the field working

Tell her to get naked first we get sedated
I should play in matrix how I'm dodging hatred
Bag of gelato flying out the basement
When my mans died I actually couldn't save him

I should make a list of the real niggas
Rolling up the strip tryna kill niggas
Holding up a fifth like a bar tender
Hulk hogan you the shirt how the arms rip you
Oh you from the dub never saw Niggas

Come on

You get whip for enough imma car dealer
Bought sticks not buffs Nigga all pistols
Call blitz like madden or it's all picks

Aye this nasa double capsule smoking cannatique
Play the standard cause the extra couldn't fit the Jean
Baby pampered how I pat and put her back to sleep
Made a pattern getting rackets Nigga

Brody blinking cross you over if I caught you reach
Caught me Neiman cults on me over some McQueen
Or McCartney season I might come a fleece
Maybe parched baby drinking semen on a knee



Credits
Writer(s): Demarco Armstrong
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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