220 lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah
Yeah

[Chorus]
Body bag, ten stacks, shooter get that cash (Yeah)
Oh, you want bags? Sell that ass, b*tch, and they'll come fast
I'm a Eastside baby, but I'm overseas for fashion
Two-twenty my dash, fast ass whip and I ain't crashin'
USA my muscle, whip a Trackhawk not no Jag', b*tch (Nope)
You must think I'm broke as f*ck, like, where they do that at, b*tch?
Oh, that's where you be at, b*tch
See me, I'm on some cash it
I'm with all my n*ggas and we all gon' blow a bag, b*tch

[Verse 1]
Walk up in Balenci', walk out, look just like the Batman
b*tch, I'm with the Bat Gang
They want smoke and we taxin'
SRT, SRT the whip come through like Flash, man
Thick ass, freak ass b*tch, she come through and her ass so fat, man (Damn, shawty)
Yeah, n*ggas ain't on what we on, yeah
I might hit that ho one time then delete her out my phone, damn
I went and blew a couple thousand on four things of cologne, sh*t
I went from the basement to the whole world singin' my songs
f*ck this fine ho, call her Ms. Christina Milian
I'm in Milan, lil' b*tch and I'm thinkin' 'bout countin' up a million
n*ggas keep callin' my phone, might switch my number, switch up on these folks
b*tches keep callin' my phone, might switch my number, switch up on these hoes
sh*t done changed, I'm gettin' paid, her whole life savings for a show
The line is lame, a n*gga can't say that I ain't pave the way for my folks
And I may have changed but what's the problem if I'm tryna get some more
I'm too insane, yeah, I got a problem, sh*t, I keep smokin' dope
[Chorus]
Body bag, ten stacks, shooter get that cash (Yeah)
Oh, you want bags? Sell that ass, b*tch, and they'll come fast
I'm a Eastside baby, but I'm overseas for fashion
Two-twenty my dash, fast ass whip and I ain't crashin'
USA my muscle, whip a Trackhawk not no Jag', b*tch (Nope)
You must think I'm broke as f*ck, like, where they do that at, b*tch?
Oh, that's where you be at, b*tch
See me, I'm on some cash it
I'm with all my n*ggas and we all gon' blow a bag, b*tch

[Verse 2]
Huh, yeah, we all gon' blow a bag, b*tch
Hol' up, yeah, all my hoes some bad b*tches
I'ma take them bands and give a stick to all my savages
I guess these n*ggas done gave up on gettin' rich, they in the past, n*gga
Yeah, see me, I'ma keep on passin' n*ggas
And I just told my boy to go roll up a blunt, just make sure that you pass it to me, yeah
If I like that sl*t then I pay for her ass and titties, yeah
The Glock a 42, it's light, I could pass it to you, yeah
Thinkin' 'bout makin' this ice for my wife 'cause this sh*t too damn pretty, yeah
I'm with this IG ho, she freaked out but she so secluded
And we havin' hoes, plenty
And we smokin' dope, plenty
I'm on a plane right now, I'm finna touchdown in your city
I'm with a real deal slime and that boy too tall and he so sticky, yeah
I'm gettin' too much cash, spend a hunnid right now and I won't miss it
These n*ggas don't listen
I'm cookin' dope, no kitchen, yeah
I see the grave, I'm p*ssin', yeah
If we see a opp, we get him
[Chorus]
Body bag, ten stacks, shooter get that cash (Yeah)
Oh, you want bags? Sell that ass, b*tch, and they'll come fast
I'm a Eastside baby, but I'm overseas for fashion
Two-twenty my dash, fast ass whip and I ain't crashin'
USA my muscle, whip a Trackhawk not no Jag', b*tch (Nope)
You must think I'm broke as f*ck, like, where they do that at, b*tch?
Oh, that's where you be at, b*tch
See me, I'm on some cash it
I'm with all my n*ggas and we all gon' blow a bag, b*tch (Ho, yeah)