Bag Talk - Intellectual

Yeah

Ay fuck Lync Lone, yeah

Bag talkin'

Got the bag talkin'

All these motherfuckers running around flexing shit in public

That shit'll get you robbed, lil hoe

That shit is not your job, lil hoe

That shit is not your hobby

Don't try to act like you out catching bodies

Yuh

I stomp on mud and I get my shoes dirty

The all-white Tommy kicks were looking so purty

The all-black outfit doesn't match em but it's worth it

Ima stash up the Birkin bag for my girlfriend, yuh

My pockets always loaded

But not with money, with dope

Cause all of my money has gone to drugs and it's funny

Cause maybe one day I love it

Then the next day I regret

And then I face a blunt and mase a cunt intending disrespect

I'm on a pace to run a mile in like a minute, so I'm set

Erasing rappers off the face of Earth, I'm just a local vet

Saving commas for highs

Racing past all my lies

I'm adjacent to God

But there's no faith in my eyes

I get to grippin' the cash

Trippin' at last

Sippin' on water, I'm havin' a blast

Rippin' the grass

Tickin' to pass

Dippin' my dick in a thot as I laugh

I could never die

But I could never thrive

So I'm stuck in the middle with blood flooding my eyes