How 'bout you? To tell the truth I think we're the chosen few An' how 'bout you? Do you feel the way I do? Yeah, I like my country rocking', how 'bout you? Yeah, I know where I come from I don't need baggy clothes Or rings in my nose to be cool

Came from the rags to riches, now we got bags and bitches Blue cheese in my off whites Got your bitch out the DM, put her on a flight I don't understand nothin' but them dollar signs 50,000 on me, I'm a walkin' lick She fuck with the squad, she gon' grip

Bitch, you gon' die, hoe They be actin' for a fuckin' bitch I'm 'bout to shoot this bitch Out of the way kids Bitch, I smoked crack, now I count fucking racks Back to the smack, lickin' the powder bags Back on my bullshit, white bands, scoof it Three in

I got a bunch of bullets and a bag of guns I pass 'em to my niggaz c'mon Now tell me what y'all smoking What kinda heat y'all holdin' Well is your creep move potent We got the plan in motion Want to get high, come smoke with me Smoke with me, light it up

Slipping through my fingers all the time I try to capture every minute The feeling in it Do I really see what's in her mind Each time I think I'm close to knowing She keeps on growing Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning Waving goodbye

Balenci (hmm), shoe size on my toe They know me (hmm), everywhere I go Codeine (hmm), double cup make her toast Got rackies, getting bags coast to coast Got two chains, my diamonds glistenin', VVs hit like this, bing (Yeah) No cash register, pockets on

Say what, say what? You know what, you know what? It's all in the family. My dick is bigger than yours My band is bigger than yours Too bad I got your beans in my bag, stuck-up sucker, Korny Motherfucker', takin' over foes is the Limp pimp, need a Bizkit

I been living fast, fast, fast, fast Feeling really bad, bad, bad, bad Time really moves fast, fast, fast, fast But hurry up and get in your bag, bag, bag, bag I wear Dior, not a fad, 'ad, 'ad, 'ad I know all these niggas gettin' mad, mad, mad, mad My

Now I'm like "Mum, buy a hundred bags" No more broken promises, I swear Mummy ain't never seen a hundred bags I need you to know that your son's got your back No more broken promises And we all know growing up in London's mad So let 'em all know that my

I just arrived (I'm here) No way I'm goin' out sad (No way) That boy is my son (My yute) Copy my style? You're nuts (You're crazy) That means I am his dad (I'm pops) God knows I got it in the bag (The bag) Dem man are stayin' inside (Where?) Comin' like