Bottega Bag Lyrics by Key Glock
(Babyyyy)
Bottega bag stuffed with three hunnid racks (Yeah)
Damn, lil’ mama got a pretty face and her waist snatched (Yeah)
They had gassed him up like Circle K, now they can’t get him back (Glizock)
I’ve gave my uncle a blunt of what’s-his-name, it’s for his cataracts (Yeah)
Bottega bag stuffed with three hunnid racks
Damn, lil’ mama got a pretty face and her waist snatched
They had gassed him up like Circle K, now they can’t get him back
I’ve gave my uncle a blunt of what’s-his-name, it’s for his cataracts (Yeah)
I’ve been busy with these racks
Strapped up like the Men in Black (Fah, fah)
I *** her once, now she attached
Glizock slammin’ *** like Shaq (Yeah)
Chiropractor, work her back (I work)
She keep callin’ me a snack
You know my rearview mirror broke (Broke)
***, ain’t no turnin’ back (The ***?)
Call me “Mr. stand on wax” (Wax)
Yeah, You know I handle business (Yeah, Glizock)
Told this *** play with your *** (Your ***)
If not that, play with your children (Yeah)
Play with La Familia, ***’ll get serious (Ayy)
When you get richer, niggas get weirder
Pink and yellow diamonds like tropical skittles (Ayy)
These niggas Malcom, all in the middle (Yeah)
Yeah, yeah, all in the way
These niggas soft, crème brûlée (Ayy)
I be hustlin’, 25/8 (Yup)
Never gave a *** what nobody gotta to say (Ayy)
These niggas broke, this *** is disgrace
Ayy, how is you broke? You should be ashamed (Ashamed)
Real P-I-M-P, might get me a cane
I feel like a scarecrow, I want some brain (Brains)
Right now (Right now), uh (Yeah)
*** around fell asleep countin’
Cutthroat, can’t let myself down (Cutthroat)
Tryna hang on this end, might drown (Drown)
Get-back gang, turns smiles into frowns (Yeah)
I get money without a doubt (No doubt)
These niggas lids, these niggas cap (Cap)
All that fairytale *** he rap (Hey)
I don’t even know why he put that *** out (The ***?)
This ain’t my ***, but I’m all in her mouth (Ayy, mouth)
I’m from South Memphis, she lovin’ my pimpin’ (Yeah)
I just left the bank with a large amount
In the club with a snub nose, Scottie Pippen (Fah)
I don’t even bring my hoes to the house
I *** them in the car, my ***, I’m different
I told ’em keep it on d-low
You got a drop, then get in with me
Three hunnid racks (Racks, racks), stuffed in my Bottega bag (Yeah)
If you walk inside my closet, that *** look just like it Saks (Yeah)
Cuzzo still up in the kitchen (Skrrt, skrrt), you know he all about a sack (Yeah)
I flew to my city, they like “It’s the return of the Mack” (Yeah)
Three hunnid racks stuffed in my Bottega bag
If you walk inside my closet, that *** look just like it’s Saks
Cuzzo still up in the kitchen, you know he all about a sack
I flew to my city, they like “It’s the return of the Mack” (Return of the Mack)
Bottega bag stuffed with three hunnid racks (Yeah)
Damn, lil’ mama got a pretty face and her way snatched (Yeah)
They had gassed him up like Circle K, now they can’t get him back
I’ve gave my uncle a blunt of what’s-his-name, It’s for his cataracts (Yeah)
I’ve been busy with these racks
Strapped up like the Men in Black (Fah, fah)
I *** her once, now she attached
Glizock slammin’ *** like Shaq (Yeah)
Chiropractor, work her back (Work)
She keep callin’ me a snack
You know my rearview mirror broke
***, ain’t no turnin’ back
(The ***?)
Yeah
(Oh, oh, uh, Ross)
(Ramy on the beat)
