CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Bag Talk
MIA Jay C
I hear you, Jay C
Yeah, ay
Smoke a pu**y n***a like a backwood
Ain't never play no basketball, but I trap good
Yeah, you ain't really gangster, you just act hood
Think he finna run up with that paper, finna whack good
(Ay, ay)
I ain't feelin' so stressed, ain't gon' settle just like this ack would
Smack the sh*t out of that boy just like his dad would
My momma don't want me servin' packs
But she know that I'm damn good
I move a fifty pack, posted in the damn hood (Ay)
We 'a bleed them n***a's block until we ran out of bullets
Walk a pu**y n***a down, and then I stand and pull it
Got that F.N. in my pocket, hit him in his hoodie
Yeah, this dawg so strong, that b*t*h need a mullet
(Ay)
When I'm f**kin' on his b*t*h, she want me 'grab her hair and pull it
I'm a dealer
Blow the spot up, If you ain't tryna pay my muller
Mask on while I'm drivin', hunnid bowls in the trunk
My mans put this deal together, so I break him off a chunk
I just poured a pint of tenth in here with Rawood
Big choppa, that b*t*h flip a whole car hood
I got a laser on the AR, look like Star Wars
Took a hunnid-thousand to LA and I bought all kush
(Ay, ay)
Big AK, with a serty, b*t*h 'a clock pours
Bought a seven-grand blunt from the cigar store
Steppin' throught the mud up in my Concords
I made it here today, so you know that's what I grind for
Got so much water on my neck, might f**k around and drown
Oh, he got a thousand pints? I'm finna buy him out
Put so much pressure on the boys, I made them throw the towel
Forty in a draco with me when I ride to town
Man, I feel like Mayweather 'way I'm boxing up these bowls
Stackin' up these pros, and if your price right, I get it gone
I can't love you baby, so I gotta lead you on
This is strictly bag talk, go and listen to them songs
I hear you, Jay C
Yeah, ay
Smoke a pu**y n***a like a backwood
Ain't never play no basketball, but I trap good
Yeah, you ain't really gangster, you just act hood
Think he finna run up with that paper, finna whack good
(Ay, ay)
I ain't feelin' so stressed, ain't gon' settle just like this ack would
Smack the sh*t out of that boy just like his dad would
My momma don't want me servin' packs
But she know that I'm damn good
I move a fifty pack, posted in the damn hood (Ay)
We 'a bleed them n***a's block until we ran out of bullets
Walk a pu**y n***a down, and then I stand and pull it
Got that F.N. in my pocket, hit him in his hoodie
Yeah, this dawg so strong, that b*t*h need a mullet
(Ay)
When I'm f**kin' on his b*t*h, she want me 'grab her hair and pull it
I'm a dealer
Blow the spot up, If you ain't tryna pay my muller
Mask on while I'm drivin', hunnid bowls in the trunk
My mans put this deal together, so I break him off a chunk
I just poured a pint of tenth in here with Rawood
Big choppa, that b*t*h flip a whole car hood
I got a laser on the AR, look like Star Wars
Took a hunnid-thousand to LA and I bought all kush
(Ay, ay)
Big AK, with a serty, b*t*h 'a clock pours
Bought a seven-grand blunt from the cigar store
Steppin' throught the mud up in my Concords
I made it here today, so you know that's what I grind for
Got so much water on my neck, might f**k around and drown
Oh, he got a thousand pints? I'm finna buy him out
Put so much pressure on the boys, I made them throw the towel
Forty in a draco with me when I ride to town
Man, I feel like Mayweather 'way I'm boxing up these bowls
Stackin' up these pros, and if your price right, I get it gone
I can't love you baby, so I gotta lead you on
This is strictly bag talk, go and listen to them songs
