At the baggage claim, you got a lot of luggage in your name It's all over the yard, in the trunk of the car When you hit the ground, check the lost and found Because it ain't my problem now I can't carry it on, I've got a lot of troubles of my own I have

In the cab of my truck Gonna make a million memories For every hundred thousand miles Learnin' everything I'll ever need to know about life and love Cracked windshield that I super-glued Crumpled-up cans and a beat up bag of Red Man chew Fix-a-flat,

I see a Mansard Roof through the trees, I see a salty message written in the eves, The ground beneath my feet, we are garbage and concrete, And now the tops of buildings I can see them too! The Argentines collapse in defeat, The admiralty surveys the

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

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

Bass lines and cars anything fast Makin' money last, hide it in a flask Sound of a bomb blast, throw it in tha bag Humping on my leg, yo I’m on my fuckin' glass Know who I am, I run this fuckin' club Tell them hoes I'll holler, stacks I got Fuck you pay

Tip, tip, tip, tip I got some money to spend Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it Time to stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it Man got the habit, money poking out the bag I might hop out on it now, for my city brought it back Bad bitches bust it down, always

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

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

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