Bag Bag
Mach-Hommy, Tha God Fahim
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[Verse 1: Tha God Fahim]
Rubber grips on all my handguns
Turn on the news, people shooting shit at random
When we was young we use to dream of pushing Phantoms
Hungry as fuck I hear my stomach having tantrums
But I was still kicking shit
Pants sagging and ignorant
I was in this shit manhandling penmanship
Grand handling membership
I ain’t have a car yet, but I had a dealership
Always wanted to be a rich nigga
You see the ice now, I’m stunting on you bitch niggas
I’m living life with no kind of regret
Every line is death so why would you place the wrong bet