CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Bags
YBonDaBeat
Yeah, yeah, aye YB
...
Sh*t go crazy
(I had to get my sh*t together)
Yeah, yeah
I'm tryna get all these bags off
I'm in the cut 'til I run up a fifty piece
Hop in the streets this sh*t get deep
Too many racks in the hood I made history
B*t*h say I'm crankin' all the plugs they tryna come get at me
You ain't gettin' money n***a can't sit with me
I was just sellin' crack I was pushin' packs in the Infiniti
Got the Glizzy on me so these n***as can't injure me
Bad lil' b*t*h and she feelin' me
I got a white b*t*h somethin' off [?]
I threw that b*t*h and she came back just likе a frisbee
Just gave my junkie a dipper hе hit it he dead
I see the opp I'ma leave his a** sh*tty
Me and Goonrich with the Glizzy get busy
I got ice on my neck and this sh*t like a blizzard
I ain't no rap n***a but you can't get me
Got an ARP and the drum hold sixty
Glock 27 the drum hold fifty
B*t*h I don't trust sh*t because everything iffy
And I'm totin' the stick when I come to your city
We ain't talkin' 'bout sh*t if it ain't about digits
I got shooters on my team b*t*h we the Pistons
We goin' state-to-state with them pistols
She a broke-a** b*t*h and I told her to fix it
Touchdown pack I'm missin'
Hop in the streets and I made a decision
Two blocks 2pac feelin' like [?]
Got shot in New York nine times like 50
Want half of a zip I'ma need six like Drizzy
Hop out the whip with the stick got t**ties
Shots fired I make this sh*t get wicked
I made a hundred-band jugg [?]
Ice on my neck and this sh*t get wicked
Hop out the tip-top shootin' a glizzy
And I still serve my aunt and this sh*t get risky
And I still beat the pot up Bobby and Whitney
Uh, I get the pack put that sh*t on the road
And I'll still serve a n***a water in bowl
And I hang with killers put the glick on your nose
When I'm in the trenches servin' auntie that dope
Hop out that two-door BM coupe
Hell yeah I got them shooters that shoot
I got the gla** come get you a [?]
Me and Keezah in the back I'ma shoot
Yellin' out auntie the junkies like ooo
And I'm in the kitchen spilled the crack on my shoe
Got the AR pistol and the bullets they blue
And I'm servin' crack like the eighties [?]
I'm on the frontline, come get a plate
Real Homicide, b*t*h I bring out the K
He a sweet lick so we takin' his plate
I'm two-faced I got the snake on my face
Uh, I got the gun on my waist
If he make me mad I put the gun in his face
And I run it up like a hundred I'm straight
Should be rappin' n***a but I sold me a eight
Got hella hoes, f**k your b*t*h anyway
Made ten bands off a feat' that's a case
Goonwick got the shake and the bake
High as hell [?]
Twenty bands put that sh*t in a safe
Like Keezah do a ten in a day
Got bad b*t*hes from the A' to the bay
Took thirty-thousand out the bank [?]
Yeah, yeah, aye YB
...
Sh*t go crazy
(I had to get my sh*t together)
Yeah, yeah
I'm tryna get all these bags off
I'm in the cut 'til I run up a fifty piece
Hop in the streets this sh*t get deep
Too many racks in the hood I made history
B*t*h say I'm crankin' all the plugs they tryna come get at me
You ain't gettin' money n***a can't sit with me
I was just sellin' crack I was pushin' packs in the Infiniti
Got the Glizzy on me so these n***as can't injure me
Bad lil' b*t*h and she feelin' me
I got a white b*t*h somethin' off [?]
I threw that b*t*h and she came back just likе a frisbee
Just gave my junkie a dipper hе hit it he dead
I see the opp I'ma leave his a** sh*tty
Me and Goonrich with the Glizzy get busy
I got ice on my neck and this sh*t like a blizzard
I ain't no rap n***a but you can't get me
Got an ARP and the drum hold sixty
Glock 27 the drum hold fifty
B*t*h I don't trust sh*t because everything iffy
And I'm totin' the stick when I come to your city
We ain't talkin' 'bout sh*t if it ain't about digits
I got shooters on my team b*t*h we the Pistons
We goin' state-to-state with them pistols
She a broke-a** b*t*h and I told her to fix it
Touchdown pack I'm missin'
Hop in the streets and I made a decision
Two blocks 2pac feelin' like [?]
Got shot in New York nine times like 50
Want half of a zip I'ma need six like Drizzy
Hop out the whip with the stick got t**ties
Shots fired I make this sh*t get wicked
I made a hundred-band jugg [?]
Ice on my neck and this sh*t get wicked
Hop out the tip-top shootin' a glizzy
And I still serve my aunt and this sh*t get risky
And I still beat the pot up Bobby and Whitney
Uh, I get the pack put that sh*t on the road
And I'll still serve a n***a water in bowl
And I hang with killers put the glick on your nose
When I'm in the trenches servin' auntie that dope
Hop out that two-door BM coupe
Hell yeah I got them shooters that shoot
I got the gla** come get you a [?]
Me and Keezah in the back I'ma shoot
Yellin' out auntie the junkies like ooo
And I'm in the kitchen spilled the crack on my shoe
Got the AR pistol and the bullets they blue
And I'm servin' crack like the eighties [?]
I'm on the frontline, come get a plate
Real Homicide, b*t*h I bring out the K
He a sweet lick so we takin' his plate
I'm two-faced I got the snake on my face
Uh, I got the gun on my waist
If he make me mad I put the gun in his face
And I run it up like a hundred I'm straight
Should be rappin' n***a but I sold me a eight
Got hella hoes, f**k your b*t*h anyway
Made ten bands off a feat' that's a case
Goonwick got the shake and the bake
High as hell [?]
Twenty bands put that sh*t in a safe
Like Keezah do a ten in a day
Got bad b*t*hes from the A' to the bay
Took thirty-thousand out the bank [?]
