Lyrics In the Bag - E-dubble

In the Bag

Ayo, it’s in the bag, look, it’s in the bag
Open up and peep what I brought back
Nothing but the dopest shit, straight filled
To the brim.
Just peep what’s in my napsack
Ayo, it’s in the bag, look, it’s in the bag
Open up and peep what I brought back
Nothing but the dopest shit, straight filled
To the brim.
Just peep what’s in my napsack
I make something out of nothing.
Call me Jesus
A tall proud heretic, damn behemoth
And I stand in these jeans with creases
Don’t blame me;
blame the god-damn Levi’s genius
These 501's are the uniform
Keep me mythically invisible — a unicorn
Nope you can’t see me chilling on the deans list
With the A.P. classes.
Y’all still C. P
To college preps I’m a graduate
Put my diploma on a t-shirt to laugh a bit
Bachelors in rap tactics: I mastered it
Put on my seat belt, and I fastened it
Cause I ride that beat like a fucking big wheel
Big deal.
I throw back like a spree wheel
Spinning all around like a fucking wind mill
I’m conscious of the sickness;
I know I’ve been ill
Ayo, it’s in the bag, look, it’s in the bag
Open up and peep what I brought back
Nothing but the dopest shit, straight filled
To the brim.
Just peep what’s in my napsack
Ayo, it’s in the bag, look, it’s in the bag
Open up and peep what I brought back
Nothing but the dopest shit, straight filled
To the brim.
Just peep what’s in my napsack
I’m no backpacker.
More like a carpet bagger
Peel off new constituents.
Peep my swagger
And I’m not talking Old Spice.
This is my right
To passage.
Wreck mics till they call me average
Meal ticket gets ripped: an orphaned bastard
But I promise that day will never come to pass
I can run too fast, and my pace is awkward
You’re a great white, homie?
We’re a pack of dolphins
Stay tight knit like an emo sweater
Don’t need no beef.
E' knows better
Don’t need your hype.
Just need the mic
Beefing with you is like riding on a seatless bike
It’s useless.
My true fans boost my music
So when you see me out just chuck the duces
When you drink a jazzer, go dumb, you doofus
Till the line gets blurred and your dreams are lucid
Ayo, it’s in the bag, look, it’s in the bag
Open up and peep what I brought back
Nothing but the dopest shit, straight filled
To the brim.
Just peep what’s in my napsack
Ayo, it’s in the bag, look, it’s in the bag
Open up and peep what I brought back
Nothing but the dopest shit, straight filled
To the brim.
Just peep what’s in my napsack
Yeah, I got diamonds on the soles of my shoes — shoes
Okay they’re rhinestones, but they look cool
I am more fresh than Paul Simon
I am so bent, yet I’m rhyming
Freestyling to any beat that comes on
Daft Punk, James Brown: I don’t give a fuck
White Boss, speak proper, spit so fly
Been waiting to talk shit since Ready To Die
Since Ready To Die, I’ve been ready to fly
Uncle Chris spits slick, so I mimic the guy
And I’m a Wallace myself, so I polish the
Chasing the dream, so it seems that I follow the wealth
Yeah I diminish my health, but the vices keep me writing
Drunk verses shock me, so I call my pen «Lightning»
Yuck.
Yes, the lyrics get frightening
Freddy Kruger letter head.
Never sleep lightly
Ayo, it’s in the bag, look, it’s in the bag
Open up and peep what I brought back
Nothing but the dopest shit, straight filled
To the brim.
Just peep what’s in my napsack
Ayo, it’s in the bag, look, it’s in the bag
Open up and peep what I brought back
Nothing but the dopest shit, straight filled
To the brim.
Just peep what’s in my napsack