Testo In the Bag - Mac Miller
Testo della canzone In the Bag (Mac Miller), tratta dall'album Modalità Aereo
Drivin' in the car, Sunday afternoon, chillin'
Who is comin' up to my car? What?
I know niggas think you white
And you not 'bout to go in with these bars, my nigga (Uh)
But that is not the truth (Okay)
Word to God, I take another shot of Hennessy
If you don't go in right now
I need your fade right now, bruh
What the fu-
Okay (Yeah), okay (Woo)
Yeah, the hustle continues, man
Yeah (You's a wild motherfucker, Mac)
Said, this the music that make white people mad (Make 'em mad)
Yeah, this the shit to blow your speakers out
This the shit you dream about
You can have the world, it's up for grabs (Up for grabs)
Leave with everything, 'cause everything is in the bag (In the bag)
When I was younger, I was just a little wild motherfucker
Tryna be like all the people on the television
They had all the bitches that I wanted, all the cars and all the extras
Anything money could buy, they was spendin' millions (Cash)
I was tryna get to pimpin', I was tryna blow up, talkin' demolition
That boy got the devil in him, swear he need a exorcism
I'm all by myself, got no competition
Keep it real in a world that's filled with politicians
You want to talk about your problems?
Don't you wish the life you lived was motherfuckin' awesome?
Don't you wish you had all the pussy?
Too much money you could spend?
So you could get away and never see your shitty life again?
Said, this the music that make white people mad (Make 'em mad)
Yeah, this the shit to blow your speakers out
This the shit you dream about
You can have the world, it's up for grabs (Up for grabs)
Leave with everything, 'cause everything is in the bag (In the bag)
And we never done with this shit, here we come with that shit
I ain't stressin'
I ain't worried 'bout nothin', don't trip
It's amazin' all the shit that I be comin' up with
Shit is real, tell 'em chill
Keep on bumpin' my shit
Yeah, all my life I've been a fuck up, never did anything right
That's why every day I'm fucked up, my mom pray to Jesus Christ (Jesus Christ)
Askin' somebody to save me (Somebody save that boy)
But I'm way too motherfuckin' crazy (No one can save that boy)
Yeah, all the kids is doin' drugs (Drugs)
They just want to break the law and find someone to fuck (They wanna find someone to fuck)
Yeah, nobody doin' as they told (Little badass kids)
Yeah, everyone out of control (Fuck it, that's just how it is)
I'm self made, dream came true, I'm a miracle
Every time I put my dick inside a bitch, it's spiritual (It's holy)
Got the whip that say "wealthy" on my steerin' wheel (Brand new car)
Brand new model bitch made me waffles and some cereal (Thank you)
That's what I call a good mornin' (Uh-huh)
Your mom work an extra job just to get you Jordans
Just so you could show up at your school lookin' fresh
Sayin' "I don't know 'bout you, but me, I'm important" (I'm so gorgeous)
You got money in your pocket, you the shit (You the shit)
You got everything you want and bitches on your dick (On your dick)
Yeah, a couple grand got you feelin' like the man
Everybody walkin' tall 'til they trip
They just cut the check, you had to go and cop the whip (You cop a whip)
Drive up to your ex's crib and tell her she ain't shit (She ain't shit)
There's just somethin' about the money, make a motherfucker crazy
When I die, bury me in my Mercedes, goddamn
Said, this the music that make white people mad (Make 'em mad)
Yeah, this the shit to blow your speakers out
This the shit you dream about
You can have the world, it's up for grabs (Up for grabs)
Leave with everything, 'cause everything is in the bag (In the bag)
And we never done with this shit, here we come with that shit
I ain't stressin'
I ain't worried 'bout nothin', don't trip
It's amazin' all the shit that I be comin' up with
Shit is real, tell 'em chill
Keep on bumpin' my shit
Bumpin' my shit
Bumpin' my shit
Bumpin' my shit
Bumpin' my shit
Coming!
Ay, open up-, ay, yeah, that's right
Yeah, aight (Quincy, hi)
Nigga, these niggas got me fucked up
Who? Who do I gotta call?
Yeah, they got m- (Who?)
Yeah, nigga, I'm fu- (Oh, we gonna take care of this right-)
Listen to me
Nigga can't park the car, nigga can't go to the store, nigga can't- (Tell me about it)
Nigga can't text his homie on the phone no more
And they talkin' 'bout, "Nigga, that's a ticket" (Well, that is, that is dangerous)
I'm like, "Nigga, I just got my L's last week", but anyway (You just got your license?)
The niggas pulled me over (Yeah)
Asked me for my license and registration (Right)
I give 'em my license and registration (As you should)
Then he got the nerve to tell me I smell like weed (Pshh)
Nigga, you asked for my license and registration
Of course, I smell like weed (Aw), nigga, I smoke weed!
Credits
Writer(s): Louis M. Freeze, Brett Anthony Bouldin, Bernice Williams, Larry E. Muggerud, Malcolm James Mccormick, Eugene Drake Dixon, Dominique Marquis Cole, Sevn Thomas, Earl G. Sr. Edwards
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