Bag lyrics

[Hook]
I Got The Swag, Got The Bag, And The b*tches, Too
We On Yo Ass, So Think Fast, Cus We Finna Shoot
You Better Shut Yo Mouth, f*ck n*gga
Fo’ We Run Up In Yo House, f*ck n*gga
My b*tches Bad, I Be Flyer Than A Parachute
I Make Em Mad, Do The Dash In A Bentley Coupe
So Put Yo Money Where Yo Mouth At, n*gga
We Know That You Ain’t Bout That, n*gga

[Verse 1]
b*tch, I’m On Fire!
Ima f*ck Around And Make These pus*y n*ggas Retire!
You Won’t Make It In These Streets If You Wasn’t Born A Survivor
Yo b*tch Give Me Sloppy Top, She Fill My di*k With Saliva
Ya Lookin’ Fo’ Us, n*gga, Then You Know Where To Find Us
I Swear Man, Everywhere I Go, I Always See Cameras
We Turn Around And We See Paparazzi Behind Us
I Wake Up, Get That Cake, And Spend That sh*t In Pajamas
These Hoes Be On My di*k, But Me, I Always Decline Em
RIDER!
Doin’ Donuts In The Parkin’ Lot, I’m Burnin The Tires
If He Say He Could f*ck With Me, That n*gga A Liar
I Just Popped Another Ecstasy And It Got Me Higher
Now You Know I’m The f*ckin Man! The f*ckin Man
Lotta Dope In My f*ckin Hands, Like The Baker Man
I Hope This pus*y n*gga Understand, I’m Not Ya Man
n*gga, I Don’t Wanna Shake Ya Hand, I’m Not A Fan
(NAWWW, NAWWW!)
[Hook]
I Got The Swag, Got The Bag, And The b*tches, Too!
We On Yo Ass, So Think Fast, Cus We Finna Shoot!
Yu Betta Shut Yo Mouth, f*ck n*gga!
Fo’ We Run Up In Yo House, f*ck n*gga!
My b*tches Bad, I Be Flyer Than A Parachute
I Make Em Mad, Do The Dash In A Bentley Coupe
So Put Yo Money Where Yo Mouth At, n*gga!
We Know That You Ain’t Bout That, n*gga

[Verse 2]
Ridin’ Down The Highway, With My Baby
My Rims Dancin’, Forgiatos Do The Nay-Nay
I Had One Wish To Be Rich Like I’m Ray J
And If You Owe Me Money, Boy You Better Pay Me
On These Beats, I Go Nuts Like A Payday
You Better Fix Yo f*ckin Hat, Cus We Gangbang
You Say You On That Bullsh*t, We On The Same Thing
I Watch My n*ggas Rob Ya, You A f*ckin Plain Jane
n*ggas Hate On Me, That sh*t Come With The Rap Game
But I Was Taught To Remain Focused And Maintain
That n*gga Ain't Got No Game, He’s A No Name!
And b*tch I Treat The Rap Game Like The Dope Game
b*tch, I’m With The Low Gang, You n*ggas So Lame
I Got These b*tches Dancing Like They On The Soul Train
I Damn Near Made A Million Dollars Off The Cocaine
Aye Kid, This Beat Is FIRE, Hope It Come With Propane
GANG!
[Hook]
I Got The Swag, Got The Bag, And The b*tches, Too!
We On Yo Ass, So Think Fast, Cus We Finna Shoot!
Yu Betta Shut Yo Mouth, f*ck n*gga!
Fo’ We Run Up In Yo House, f*ck n*gga!
My b*tches Bad, I Be Flyer Than A Parachute
I Make Em Mad, Do The Dash In A Bentley Coupe
So Put Yo Money Where Yo Mouth At, n*gga!
We Know That You Ain’t Bout That, n*gga