Sawyer Lee - BAG Lyrics

Bag bag bag bag
Bag bag bag bag
Baby what you do
Like what you tryna do
Like how old are you
Yea bag yea bag yea bag
Yea bag yea bag yea bag

Hold on lemme y'all my shi
Hold on lemme walk my shi
Bih ima pop my shi
Trap house jumping
With the j's n it
24/7 everyday n this bih
Know we stay n this bih
We getting paid this bih
Bih ima pop my shi
I'm mobbing wit these bands now
Stayed Down
And I'm putting on my friends now
Some of my partners turned
Out to be some let downs
I got to many people on my back
For me to let down
So I keep my rounds
And never drown
It's sink or swim over here shawty
If ain't come from me
It ain't real shawty
I'm being real proper
Pay yo respect
Know we got the city poppin
Fake old heads
Like false prophets
Claiming word
But ain't never lived it
You talkin that smack
But ain been near the trenches
I take out the weapon
Then take out the witness
I pop cause I shop
No stylist like frenchie
Balmains n givenchy
Red bottoms I'm stepping
I really came from nothing
But shooter shoot they shot
And a yungin stay bussin
I pull for 10 no kap
I'm not tryna get hot
I'm tryna whip that pot
But I know if I stay low
They ain't gone know the drop
Get to the bag
To the bag
To the bag
I'm n my bag
My bag
Get to the bag
To the bag
To the bag
I'm n my bag
My bag

Bag bag bag bag
Bag bag bag bag
Baby what you do
Like what you tryna do
Like how old are you
Yea bag yea bag yea bag
Yea bag yea bag yea bag

She lookin bad n I like it
I ain't even take off my nikes
I buss her down n my white tee
This bih be tryin me nightly
She can come over
But she gotta go
When the dark leave
I don't do fighting
But if u don't like me come try me
Came from the 90's
And I'm pushing til they find me
These games is over
This shi dif in 2k19
I need these bags
Bags bags bag
This life get sad
When a yungin get mad
I hold it down for my dad
Rip to my dad
I pick up these glads
Full of gas
And wrap them up
Because they smellin real bad
Ballin like John madden
Do you know time it is
Run it up get this cash real fast
If you ain't talkin money
I'm over it
Checked in to the six
Told me I'm good n the city
Tryna get like Diddy
Fly told me this
Hoes is suddidy
I ain't trippin
On them bitches
They smart n they tricky
I might jus trick her
Good gas n brown liquor
High class n low tempers
Everybody want with us
But they never was with us
They see the bag bag bag bag
This life get sad sad sad
When a yungin get mad mad mad
Hold it down for my dad dad dad
Rip to my dad
I pick up these glads
Full of dat gas
And wrap them up
Because they be smelling
Real bad
I'm balling like madden
You kno what time it is
I run it up get this cash real fast
If you ain't talking bout money
Then you already kno I'm over it
I check n the 6
Told me I'm good n the city
I'm bout to boss up like diddy
Fly told me these hoes is sadistic
I ain't trippin on these bitches
They smart n they tricky
I might just trick her
Good gas n brown liquor
High class & low tempers
Everybody want with us
But they never walk with us

Bag bag bag bag
Bag bag bag bag