This is a song about "Sleeping bags"

Convertibles with turbo jets

Sleeping in your beds and in your sheds,

And it's hard to find god when you ain't never seen him

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

Fuckboys better wake up with all that sleeping

And my only fear's a wedding ring

No kids, no ring herd she do your own thing

While you were pretending to be sleeping

Maybe i should pack my bags and go

My dick hates sweaters so she jack it slow

Hot man, god damn, killa cam be live

While you were sleeping, i was writing rhymes

Why i had white bags in my backpack

They napped and slept on me, man, i hate black

Let my angel sing

And i'm sick of not sleeping,