Lyrics: Angellika Smith
Music: Angellika Smith
YUH
Blow a bag, Pop a tag I’m gonna let it fly / all fax when I wrap I could never lie /on four flats with no gas they never ride/I’m over here. They’re over there. You should pick a side.
Gucci slides in the summertime feeling too cosy / the whole block full of baby boys, call you punk Jody / my mothers child gone bring that thang out I don’t do homies / purple drink in pineapple pop rip Kobe /
Big rings and big trophies need all the accolades / they broke wit a lot of talk week like 7 days / I step wit a lot of shine I don’t see da shade / you ain’t in no barber shop but you can catch a fade
Spend it all when.
Hit the mall and then cash out - yea
Made it all in my trap house - ya
In the trap till I pass out - ya
Tryna stack it up till I can’t count - ya
pounds like good life / I’m hustling all night / three k’s : the dope I’m selling, is all white / no kilt? But I know shooters that blow pipes/ Jamaican killers around my way only drinking red stripe/
Oh, collecting all night / then I’m thumbing through the cash / my only concern is how to get a bigger bag / I could teach a class show you how to go and get it fast / garbage bag filled with ps : / neighbours think that it’s trash /
I’m a scholar :/ when it comes to getting road dollars / might go plain white Tee bucket hat prada / big spliff smoking moving like a don dada / a shotta we pulling up you gone need a doctor