In My Bag
I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city
I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me
In my bag in my bag, in my bag
Aye
Aye
Aye
In my bag, in my bag, in my bag
I let you talk shit so long cuz I'll survive the hating
Crucified for writing verses that belong on bible pages
So sick, what illness got me ailing and coughing?
Thunder swings Shango's hammer put the nail in the coffin
Beat killer and a threat rapping,
Mic thriller in a red jacket
Young dripper don't flex average,
Big stepper in the flesh-flashing
Love the rap art but if you a capper, I'll make you Casper
To these cats who act hard, I'm Simba when he smacked Scar
A lot rap bars talk money, don't even have an accent
What you saying don't make sense, you speaking pig Latin
I should be out in Cambridge for my way with this language
Y'all perpetually bitter, I spit lyrical literature
Study how my words rhyme like examinations
Thoughts from girls' thighs to worldwide, I examine nations
Done the cross-examination, y'all pass bars like new attorneys
Devilish charms with firearms Satan couldn't burn me
I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city
I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me
In my bag in my bag, in my bag
Aye
Aye
Aye
In my bag, in my bag, in my bag
I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city
I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me
In my bag in my bag, in my bag
Aye
Aye
Aye
In my bag, in my bag, in my bag
My flow nuts, bout to blow up, watch the glow up, make the foes nuts
I party gnarly with bros, sluts, fuckboys cucks,
Whether you are celibate or settled into your lust
Saints and sinners can join up, and anyone free to show up
If you want to smoke better roll up, just don't be a poser
They want me parked in the back like they did to Rosa
Now I'm in the front cuz y'all never owned up
To the hating, so I'm trying to be banking like Oprah
Stacy is dashing for fast passion, clueless about slow love
Bunch of fuckboys and girls unsure of how to grow up
I'm trying to grow old with someone who'll last a lifetime
Cuz a two-dollar bill's worth surpasses fine dimes
I'm too smart to be caught in baby momma bullshit
I'm on the road for gold, six rings on my Bulls did
Never spent a day in the life, playing the popping cool kid
Knew when momma gave me life, that's nobody's congruent
I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city
I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me
In my bag in my bag, in my bag
Aye
Aye
Aye
In my bag, in my bag, in my bag
I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city
I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me
In my bag in my bag, in my bag
Aye
Aye
Aye
In my bag, in my bag, in my bag
I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me
In my bag in my bag, in my bag
Aye
Aye
Aye
In my bag, in my bag, in my bag
I let you talk shit so long cuz I'll survive the hating
Crucified for writing verses that belong on bible pages
So sick, what illness got me ailing and coughing?
Thunder swings Shango's hammer put the nail in the coffin
Beat killer and a threat rapping,
Mic thriller in a red jacket
Young dripper don't flex average,
Big stepper in the flesh-flashing
Love the rap art but if you a capper, I'll make you Casper
To these cats who act hard, I'm Simba when he smacked Scar
A lot rap bars talk money, don't even have an accent
What you saying don't make sense, you speaking pig Latin
I should be out in Cambridge for my way with this language
Y'all perpetually bitter, I spit lyrical literature
Study how my words rhyme like examinations
Thoughts from girls' thighs to worldwide, I examine nations
Done the cross-examination, y'all pass bars like new attorneys
Devilish charms with firearms Satan couldn't burn me
I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city
I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me
In my bag in my bag, in my bag
Aye
Aye
Aye
In my bag, in my bag, in my bag
I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city
I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me
In my bag in my bag, in my bag
Aye
Aye
Aye
In my bag, in my bag, in my bag
My flow nuts, bout to blow up, watch the glow up, make the foes nuts
I party gnarly with bros, sluts, fuckboys cucks,
Whether you are celibate or settled into your lust
Saints and sinners can join up, and anyone free to show up
If you want to smoke better roll up, just don't be a poser
They want me parked in the back like they did to Rosa
Now I'm in the front cuz y'all never owned up
To the hating, so I'm trying to be banking like Oprah
Stacy is dashing for fast passion, clueless about slow love
Bunch of fuckboys and girls unsure of how to grow up
I'm trying to grow old with someone who'll last a lifetime
Cuz a two-dollar bill's worth surpasses fine dimes
I'm too smart to be caught in baby momma bullshit
I'm on the road for gold, six rings on my Bulls did
Never spent a day in the life, playing the popping cool kid
Knew when momma gave me life, that's nobody's congruent
I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city
I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me
In my bag in my bag, in my bag
Aye
Aye
Aye
In my bag, in my bag, in my bag
I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city
I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me
In my bag in my bag, in my bag
Aye
Aye
Aye
In my bag, in my bag, in my bag
Credits
Writer(s): Mandela Massina
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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