This is a song about "Designer bags"

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

In fact my past is the raddest, filled with bags of grass and captain caps

All my shit designer and i’m still a minor

{*both*} but first lemme, lemme, lemme talk to her

And even more alarming is the fact

Got a scholarship, my bags were packed

When i'm through, i'll probably let you take it back

Back-to-back packin' bags back and forth with fifths of jack

Snapple fact: you rather wack

In their designer jean's back

As i pack my bags and head to mesa / where we getting our cake up/

Take a puff from the blunt and watch the smoke swirlmy mossberg goes boom, what's another plug

And blastin' to snatch you fags like hand bags

Or just another one of my black jesus traps

I shall not fear no man but godthough i walk through the valley of death

Remember meeting you in those italian heels and that designer dress