Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Bags Under My Eyes , by - P Money. Release date: 27.06.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Bags Under My Eyes |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| They wanna chat about guns and they wanna chat about fuckerys |
| But they ain’t even got no guns and they ain’t even done no fuckerys |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| They wanna chat about guns and they wanna chat about fuckerys |
| But they ain’t even got no guns and they ain’t even done no fuckerys |
| You think you’re well hard |
| You think you’re bad, yeah? |
| You think you’re well hard |
| This don must’ve hit his head well hard |
| Mario World, you’re fucking with a sheller |
| Yeah, I’m from south, got connects to the east |
| And them dargs there ain’t nothing like ‘wellard' |
| The end result might leave you in a pool |
| When my shooters catch you slipping like Gerrard |
| Suarez moments, big boi sheller |
| I kept it all bottled up, no cellar |
| Manaman got the low down from Shredda |
| Bang! |
| Smash! |
| Big boi, Stella |
| «P Money, 'llow it, you should know better» |
| I am the best, I don’t know no better |
| Shut your mouth, blud, tell me who’s better |
| Tired of this shit, someone tell this bredda |
| Look in my face |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| They wanna chat about guns and they wanna chat about fuckerys |
| But they ain’t even got no guns and they ain’t even done no fuckerys |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| They wanna chat about guns and they wanna chat about fuckerys |
| But they ain’t even got no guns and they ain’t even done no fuckerys |
| Man said they want beef |
| Nah, nah, nah, not me |
| What, he didn’t ask for it? |
| Nah, not me |
| I ordered lettuce and veggie beans |
| Man can’t take me for a mint tea |
| Pap pap pap, holes in his mint tee |
| Said you was a shooter, said you was a gunner |
| Now all you do is talk Thierry Henry |
| Breaking news when I pull out the torch |
| These long shots end up on Sky Sports |
| Which one of you wanna visit up north? |
| Awoh, that’s what I thought |
| They ain’t got the training we’ve been taught |
| They say don’t talk if you get caught |
| We say brudda, don’t get caught |
| You’re a weak link whether or not you talk |
| Look in my face |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| They wanna chat about guns and they wanna chat about fuckerys |
| But they ain’t even got no guns and they ain’t even done no fuckerys |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| They wanna chat about guns and they wanna chat about fuckerys |
| But they ain’t even got no guns and they ain’t even done no fuckerys |
| «Oi, do you want me to switch?» |
| Why ask if I want you to switch? |
| Like I’m gonna say yeah, fuck it, yeah, switch |
| I’ll bang you up, you prick |
| Black baseball bat looking all sick |
| Pussy, hold onto your ribs |
| One swing, swell up his lips |
| Smash Stella Artois and shit |
| Acting like you’re God’s gift |
| You ain’t old school and you ain’t God’s Gift |
| Might wrap man up with a yout from Bow |
| Send man to the sky, now you’re God’s gift |
| Disappear from the game, call it a glitch |
| Never watched baseball but we know how to pitch |
| Ten bags for a ‘profesh' hitman |
| But we’ve got youts that’ll lick man for six |
| Look in my face |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| They wanna chat about guns and they wanna chat about fuckerys |
| But they ain’t even got no guns and they ain’t even done no fuckerys |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| Got bags under my eyes, I’m tired of telling these breddas |
| They wanna chat about guns and they wanna chat about fuckerys |
| But they ain’t even got no guns and they ain’t even done no fuckerys |