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lud foe - bag lyrics
[hook]
i got the swag, got the bag, and the b-tches, too
we on yo -ss, 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 p-ssy 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 d-ck 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 d-ck, 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 p-ssy 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 -ss, 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 g-ngb-ng
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 d-mn 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 -ss, 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
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