This is a song about "Dueche bags"

87, brick fare, yeah, i’m talking thirty racks

And blastin' to snatch you fags like hand bags

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

All i know is yolo, nigga, that's the motto

They just wanna dance

But fuck all you scum bags

Then im off by the morning i dont no these hoes im just another recordin this

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

Hop over, run backwards, with a knap sack of green supreme hats

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

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

A biggie imposter bout to turn you into bacon to eat with some flap jacks

The mirror, bags under my eyes,

Matter fact i dreamed that i lived twice

Why i had white bags in my backpack

I can't hold back, it's time to attack jack