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i get the bag (remix) - gucci mane & migos lyrics

[intro: gm & quavo] ha it’s gucci, it’s drop top/wizop, whoo/yeah, ayy (go)

[verse 1: k shiday] i’m so sick of handling business, i’m tired/still got your n*gga, he got me on watch/just caught a fit and i’m lit in this b*tch/and you know my whole crew, we gon’ f*ck at the spot/lil daddy, he on, but he all about me, like to take him on rides like a kid in the park/he know how to bite it, and eat it, then squeeze it, look at me like dennis, look who you got hard/he know i’m the sh*t, and so is his d*ck, i told him my daddy grew up in the hood/he gon’ ask me if i got a little sister to make sure that one of his n*ggas was good/i’m just a rapper that write all the hits, i like to bop that shin0bi and sh*t
hе can pull up at your cousin’s lil house, shoot dice, and cut off ’cause hе caught him a l!ck/pass me the pepto and pass my the sprite, diamonds so nasty, they makin’ me sick/i ain’t gonna trip on a ho, ain’t exotic, if you call me joe, i’ma carole that b*tch/f*ck what you heard, i’ma ride on this b*tch, b*tch look like she go, he got it from disney/1017, b*tch come and hop on this glizzy, you know like lil gotit, the slime is no kizzy/i toss that n*gga around like a frisbee, you know my zone, it that zone where the kids be/two and o, b*tch, and i’m lit, and i’m healthy, i’m on a diet, your b*tch on a frenzy/he take me back, better come with a bag, ’cause still in my pocket, i got me a mag/i throw the bomb, take it out like a frag, go stash in the house, b*tch, we trap out the bando, ho

[chorus: quavo] you get the bag and fumble it/i get the bag and flip it and tumble it (yeah)/straight out the lot, 300 cash (cash)/and the car came with a blunt in it (yeah)/lil’ mama a thot, and she got ass (thot)/and she gon’ f*ck up a bag (yeah)/pull up to the spot, livin’ too fast (yeah)/droppin’ the dope in the stash (yeah)/in italy, got 2 foreign hoes, they dm me (ooh, brr, ayy)/drop the top when it’s cold (drop*top)/but you feel the heat (skrrt, yeah, ayy)/be real with me/keep it 100, just be real with me (ayy)/eat it up like it’s a feast (woah, eat it up)/they say the dope on fleek (yep)

[verse 2: takeoff] percocet pill on me (percocet)/ice on my neck, baby, chill with me (ice)/them n*ggas that post in the back don’t say nothin’/them n*ggas will k!ll for me/back ends i count in my sleep, on fleek/100k spent on a patek phillippe (phillippe)/b*tch, i’m a dog, eat my treat (hrr)/hop out the frog and leap (leap)/i put them bricks in the fender/my b*tch, she walk around like she kris jenner (kris jenner)/i used to break in and enter/then takeoff runnin’ like the game of temple (whew)/it’s simple, i play with her mental/mama said she saw me on jimmy kimmel (mama)/count it up, ’cause i’m a money symbol walkin’ with the racks, i’m lookin’ crippled (money)/f*ck on that b*tch then i tip her (tip her)/a nickel for me to take pictures (nickel)/not from l.a. but i clip her (brr)/double my cup, pour a triple (actavis)/fox on my body, no vivica (fox on my…)/i’m not your average or typical (i’m not your…)/look at my wrist, and it’s critical (look at the…)/hold it up, droppin’ the temperature (droppin’ the…)/i get that bag on the regular (bag)/i got a bag on my cellular (brr)/backin’ up, baggin’ up vegetables (bag)/bag of them cookies, it’s medical (cookies)/cocaine, codeine, etcetera (white)/cocaine and lean, it’s federal (white)/i take off, landin’ on nebula/as of now 20 m’s on my schedule (takeoff)

(chorus)
[verse 3: gucci mane] i know that these n*ggas gettin’ sick of me (eww*ah)/these chains on my neck cost a mil’ a piece (um)/i don’t even like to freestyle for free/i put in the key and i ride the beat/i won’t even come out the house for free/i pay a n*gga to drive for me (huh?)/jay*z couldn’t even co*sign for me/i do what i want ’cause i’m signed to me (d*mn)/i get the, i get the, i get the bag/they get the bag, have to cut it in half (wop)/stop the comparin’, y’all makin’ me laugh/need the rehab, i’m addicted to cash/convertible wop, convertible top/my dope got a vertical, look at it hop/skrrt, skrrt, skrrt, and it jump out the pot (pot)/came out of jail and went straight to the top/take it easy, baby, middle of summer, i’m freezin’, baby (burr)/don’t leave me, baby/just drop to your knees and please me, baby (go)/i’m fascinated, 2 b*tches so fine that i m*st*rbated (ha)/ congratulations, she brain me so good that i graduated (wow)/they had to hate it/i don’t f*ck with them n*ggas, they plastic, baby (heh)/a trapper, baby, i rap but i own all my masters, baby/it’s tragic, baby, i pull up and f*ck up the traffic, baby (ha)/a savage, baby/i’m k!llin’ these n*ggas, closed casket, baby (wop)

(chorus)

[verse 4: kodak black] nah dawg, it’s lil kodak n*gga what you thought/i got snakes on my gucci, but not in my yard/i got that bag got that guwop, bought a icy watch/shoutout to convertible burt/florida boy, florida boy, florida sh*t/i turned my 4 door to a vert/can y’all please let me roll in peace, i’m smoking purp/my n*gga said if he go to prison, he get the jury gone/all you rappers really be nerds with some jewelry on/don’t be remixing my sh*t, that wasn’t x’s song/don’t remix my sh*t, that’s a n*gga track/when i remix, i re*rock your sh*t like whipping crack/i drop a seven in a pot, and stretched me ten back/i just pulled a bag out a cartier box/pulled up to the dumpster, threw away some bank cards/road running duffling/yea i got that laundry/rolling on a monkey/my car look like a pumpkin/in and out of juvenile, every day we rumbling/bunky trynna sleep, i singing rest in peace slim dunkin/my b*tch she got on mac/keep her face done/i’m sliding with the mac/i got to stay with one/don’t remix my sh*t/don’t remix my sh*t, you can’t ride the beat like me/all you n*ggas ain’t sh*t, you n*ggas ain’t in these streets/how you older than me, you trynna to be like me/i got that bag/i got that bag lil n*gga, i got that bag/garbage bag, breitling bag, whatever bag yuh/ garbage bag, body bag, whatever bag get that sh*t

[verse 5: young m.a.]
you get the bag and fumble it, i get the bag and flip it and tumble it
car came with a sl*t in it, then i made the b*tch cum in it
double cuppin’ it, no lean just the red punch with the rum in it
silky on, fresh white tee with the constructs on, thuggin’ it
the block hot so i’m tuckin’ it, glizzy came with a drum in it
treat my nina like my old hoe, start actin’ up and i’m dumpin’ it
i don’t really play the scenes like ad, i’m in the cut with it
louis bag with the hunnids in it quarter million in it had to stuff it in it
wake and bake in the oven with it, if it ain’t skunkin i ain’t f*cking with it
white cars with the black rims, but the inside peanut b*tter with it
still gutter with it, still red colors with it, still blood for my brother with it
benz truck put my mother in it, these checks keep on repeating
bank account got a stutter in it, b*tch n*gga i’m eating
treat the p*ssy like a plumber n*gga, put my plunger in it she screaming
kickin hoes out the hotel like a punter with it, they schemin’
not stupid or a sucker n*gga, hoes wanna come up i peep it
young n*gga from the concrete, now i’m seeing palm trees
tryna get a double r on my car keys and on the car seats
pocket full of parsley, glock in arm reach can’t harm me
mix the jungle juice with the jamba juice now i’m feeling saucy
feeling like the old me, can’t hold me, in the hood still moving dolie
if you ain’t gang gang can’t bro me, can’t say you love me, gotta show me
she said it’s hard to communicate, ’cause i only send emojis
i don’t show no emotions * can’t let you know me (uh)
swag dripping nose bleed (uh), gave away my rollies (uh)
they was getting old to me (uh), i know that was bold of me (uh)
n*ggas ain’t as cold as me (uh) shawty got a whole n*gga
but she in the club poking me (uh), tryna get a hold of me (uh)
i should take her in the bathroom, but that would be the hoe in me (uh)
ass looking like a baboon, man f*ck it bring the hoe with me (uh)
covered up with tattoos (uh) it compliment the polo tees (uh)
if them haters got a attitude, hit em with shoulder lean (uh)
milly rockin through the bad vibes, time is money and if it ain’t about the money
i don’t have time (man), that slowed me down the last time (d*mn)
so i made that the last time, now it’s stack rack time (uh)
prolly been a wavy n*gga, like back*back in my past time
all these funny looking n*ggas rapping, and they ain’t really saying sh*t
and i won’t say i hate the sh*t, i just won’t play the sh*t
still the queen out the brook, my crown still fit me right
still in the streets like a city bike, still posted like a city light
hadda get my pennies right, hadda change my diet up just to get me right
i remember plenty nights, living that henny life never did me right
now its more like plenty life, can’t settle down, gotta busy life
i already know what that kitty like, i’m just tryna see what that bentley like
cut a lot of n*ggas off, i bet they talk about me
f*ck what you think and f*ck what you thought, better off without me
i’m better off with less than more around me, fake n*gga walk around me
never had security, no cops never had the law around me
prolly me and three n*ggas, i just gotta keep k!lling
getting wins outta loses, gotta keep meek millin’
we living, we billin, fat blunts, weed spilling
i invested in the weed business, ’cause i’m just tryna see millions
in the stu cooking up, cooking up, hadda put my feet in it
when life threw me lemons, i made lemon squeeze with it
no i don’t need women, i don’t know how i could keep women
i think i’m a good n*gga, but i guess they see different
can’t get a girl pregnant, so i made my pockets pregnant
money calling 9/11, got 7 figures but i can’t stop at 7
naw man gotta get it, getting guap till i die
still get the guap in heaven, ’cause me and god we connected
and we got a great connection (uh), praying with my pistol on me (uh)
but that’s just for my my protection (uh), hennessy was my obsession (uh)
just to get through my depression (uh), that was kinda my confessions (uh)
we need more spittas, less funny looking n*ggas
that’s just my suggestion

- gucci mane migos lyrics

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