Blame it on the bag You can blame it on the bag If you wonderin’ why I changed up Tell ‘em the money is why I changed up I’m gettin' high smokin’ with angels You know I can hate that’s what a lame does Bring it back stackin’ this money But I still can’t

I'ma knock the pussy out like fight night Broke niggas stand to the left My rich niggas stand to the right Lil' mamma, she keep looking at me (lil' mama!) Hit it with the left, hit with the right Beat it with the left, beat it with the right If you know

I started this gangsta shit And this the motherfuckin thanks I get? {Hello} Look at these Niggas With Attitudes {Hello} And this the motherfuckin thanks I get? (Hello) The motherfuckin world is a ghetto Full of magazines, full clips, and heavy metal When

I am the bonfire I live off your gasoline, gasoline You make me stronger, I'm going higher You make me stronger, you make me light up With the shade you throw on me, throw on me When you're mad Make it rain you're trying to put my fire out You feel

I just put you on a wave I could put you on a wave Follow me into the ocean You will never be the same You're pretty as the ocean I'm coming with the gang So you need to get out our way The ladies love it when I sing The niggas love my abilities

I am francisco vasquez garcia I am welcome to almeria We have sin gas and con leche We have fiesta and feria We have the song of the cochona We have brandy and half corona And leonardo and his accordione And kalamari and macaroni Come all you rambling

I finessed the plug, I got extra drugs I thought you fucked with me, Gucci, where's the love? The more niggas you bring, the more heads we bust I suggest you niggas don't fuck with us If Young Metro don't trust you, I'm gon' shoot you I suggest that you

(Cause I'm out here grindin') I don't care what nobody say I'm a be me (be me) Stay hood, stay raised in the streets Niggas talk about greatness whenever they speak about me (Cause I'm out here grindin') I ain't splitting nothing with nobody homie I

Yo, llévame a la coco, yeah a la coco Ellos quieren coco, y yo tampoco Never trust a broke hoe, don’t fuck with po-po Número uno, me llama Yoko Pull up in them thing things, and let them things fling Niggas know my name ring, and it go “ding-ding” If I

I guess I'm making all the right wrong turns tonight Seat laid back running Fingers through my hair Watching miles go by Like she just don't care Looking at me with One thing on her mind Stopped and got a little gasoline at the old bean peak