This is a song about "Bags"

In my own class, bitch i got them cold raps

I want millions of body bags

Bags under my 'isaac', grinding to the laws of motion

Once the police get to cuffing, bet his homie deceive him

Inducing my movements / as i'm improving my fusing on tracks

One, two, three little fags, they fuck with my homies so i grab out the body bags,

Got a scholarship, my bags were packed

That passed on, they in heaven, found peace at last

If i don't make that man there dance

But fuck all you scum bags

Wants to know why his daddy don't love him no mo'you can't complain you was dealt this

When those trash bags middle initial was loyalty compare to yal backstabbing bitches.

In the front row at a holy justin bieber show

Body bags are piling up, time to grab myself a hoe,

Her hair all over the bed, that make me love her more

To go from sellin’ bags to bottles right out the store