Bookbag
Lyrics
I don't got a pencil or pen in this bookbag
Added like ten to the clip 'cause it look bad
Don't give a fuck if you pissed, nigga, get mad
Or you can bitch and get killed with your bitch ass
Lil' bro got blood on his shirt with his Crip ass
Go write a diss and get murked, don't do shit ass
Bitch, I'm a star, I might burst with my stiff ass
Hop out the car like, "Who want it? Who with that?"
I don't know nothin', I was gone when they did that
Bandana wrapped where my chrome and my wig at
If he want beef, hit his home with a Big Mac
Niggas be breakin' the code like a Kit-Kat
Runnin' your mouth like a ho get you bitch-slapped (talk too much)
Actin' too tough get your bitch wrapped up (goofy ass)
I can make four blunts out a bitch like, "Huh?"
I'm rollin' Backwoods, what the fuck is a Dutch?
And my coupe automatic like fuck is a clutch?
And you still rocking PacSun, boy, you a bum
Could've bought a new gun, what I spent on my charm
I get cheese by the pound, this is not Parmesan
I'm smokin' broccoli, countin' up lettuce
In love with the Glocky, think I got a fetish
Kush in my pocket, this shit hella smelly
Little Caesars my Glock, keep that bitch hot and ready
Finna be summer, go pull out the shirts
And go pull out the shovels and water the dirt
Niggas been so-called lookin' for me
'Fore I half on a nigga, I'm poppin' him first (where he at? Where he at?)
If you my bitch, then you gotta be pretty and with it
Like, "Bae, put the Glock in your purse"
Fuck up your life like some crack or a curse
Got a bitch with a pipe in the back of the 'vert
Thinkin' shit sweet could turn matters to worse
Go from Cadillac trucks to a Cadillac hearse
Act like you poppin', get popped like a Perc'
Front like he got it, we rob him, it's merched
Go through his wallet and all of his merch
Fuck what you call it, I call it some work
And I'm constantly ballin' like Caris LeVert
I ain't fuckin' her raw even off of this Perc'
I don't got a pencil or pen in this bookbag
Added like ten to the clip 'cause it look bad
Don't give a fuck if you pissed, nigga, get mad
Or you can bitch and get killed with your bitch ass
Lil' bro got blood on his shirt with his Crip ass
Go write a diss and get murked, don't do shit ass
Bitch, I'm a star, I might burst with my stiff ass
Hop out the car like, "Who want it? Who with that?"
I don't know nothin', I was gone when they did that
Bandana wrapped where my chrome and my wig at
If he want beef, hit his home with a Big Mac
Niggas be breakin' the code like a Kit-Kat
Runnin' your mouth like a ho get you bitch-slapped (talk too much)
Actin' too tough get your bitch wrapped up (goofy ass)
I can make four blunts out a bitch like, "Huh?"
I'm rollin' Backwoods, what the fuck is a Dutch?
And my coupe automatic like fuck is a clutch?
And you still rocking PacSun, boy, you a bum
Could've bought a new gun, what I spent on my charm
I get cheese by the pound, this is not Parmesan
I'm smokin' broccoli, countin' up lettuce
In love with the Glocky, think I got a fetish
Kush in my pocket, this shit hella smelly
Little Caesars my Glock, keep that bitch hot and ready
Finna be summer, go pull out the shirts
And go pull out the shovels and water the dirt
Niggas been so-called lookin' for me
'Fore I half on a nigga, I'm poppin' him first (where he at? Where he at?)
If you my bitch, then you gotta be pretty and with it
Like, "Bae, put the Glock in your purse"
Fuck up your life like some crack or a curse
Got a bitch with a pipe in the back of the 'vert
Thinkin' shit sweet could turn matters to worse
Go from Cadillac trucks to a Cadillac hearse
Act like you poppin', get popped like a Perc'
Front like he got it, we rob him, it's merched
Go through his wallet and all of his merch
Fuck what you call it, I call it some work
And I'm constantly ballin' like Caris LeVert
I ain't fuckin' her raw even off of this Perc'
Writer(s): Truman Rogers II
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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