In My Bag Lyrics

I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city

I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me

In my bag in my bag, in my bag

Aye

Aye

Aye

In my bag, in my bag, in my bag

I let you talk shit so long cuz I'll survive the hating

Crucified for writing verses that belong on bible pages

So sick, what illness got me ailing and coughing?

Thunder swings Shango's hammer put the nail in the coffin

Beat killer and a threat rapping,

Mic thriller in a red jacket

Young dripper don't flex average,

Big stepper in the flesh-flashing

Love the rap art but if you a capper, I'll make you Casper

To these cats who act hard, I'm Simba when he smacked Scar

A lot rap bars talk money, don't even have an accent

What you saying don't make sense, you speaking pig Latin

I should be out in Cambridge for my way with this language

Y'all perpetually bitter, I spit lyrical literature

Study how my words rhyme like examinations

Thoughts from girls' thighs to worldwide, I examine nations

Done the cross-examination, y'all pass bars like new attorneys

Devilish charms with firearms Satan couldn't burn me

I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city

I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me

In my bag in my bag, in my bag

Aye

Aye

Aye

In my bag, in my bag, in my bag

I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city

I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me

In my bag in my bag, in my bag

Aye

Aye

Aye

In my bag, in my bag, in my bag

My flow nuts, bout to blow up, watch the glow up, make the foes nuts

I party gnarly with bros, sluts, fuckboys cucks,

Whether you are celibate or settled into your lust

Saints and sinners can join up, and anyone free to show up

If you want to smoke better roll up, just don't be a poser

They want me parked in the back like they did to Rosa

Now I'm in the front cuz y'all never owned up

To the hating, so I'm trying to be banking like Oprah

Stacy is dashing for fast passion, clueless about slow love

Bunch of fuckboys and girls unsure of how to grow up

I'm trying to grow old with someone who'll last a lifetime

Cuz a two-dollar bill's worth surpasses fine dimes

I'm too smart to be caught in baby momma bullshit

I'm on the road for gold, six rings on my Bulls did

Never spent a day in the life, playing the popping cool kid

Knew when momma gave me life, that's nobody's congruent

I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city

I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me

In my bag in my bag, in my bag

Aye

Aye

Aye

In my bag, in my bag, in my bag

I'm not the man of the year or the man of my city

I'm the man to my fam and anyone who rides with me

In my bag in my bag, in my bag

Aye

Aye

Aye

In my bag, in my bag, in my bag