This is a song about "Tea bags"

But fuck all you scum bags

Now if you give us a chance

Why i had white bags in my backpack

Where the black girls get their weaves back

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

Bury your thoughts, take his head fuck him have at him

Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks

And blastin' to snatch you fags like hand bags

It’s a party in my pants and you invited with all that dance

Hottest on tracks, i'm the shit like what fills colostomy bags

We get the bread and the crumbs, young money

Queen b would have you servin tea/

Do you think i'm crazy, crazy, crazy

I'm over the fact, that i'm not your cup of tea,