More Than Bags

Lyrics

[Intro: Larry June] DJ.Fresh, DJ.Fresh, DJ.Fresh Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay Man, uh Gone, man, sock it to me [Verse 1: Larry June] Touch spot out the way, get to park the McLaren Oakland Hills, with my lady eating organic It get ill, but what's life without no challenge? My mama into real estate, I need a house in Atlanta My life depending on this shit, so look, I need mine What can you bring to the table? I'm just being logical At least I never lied to you, I got a lot on my plate And a lil extra stress, something I can't take I need a bitch that motivate me, everything else fake Like the strains in my 97, bitch I'm laced I work hard, so hell yeah, I need a vacation I just found a way on next to nathan I do good business, fuck paying you later I move how I move to avoid the casings Woke up with money on my mind, I'm anxious Palms itching on the way to Vegas [Chorus: Larry June] Racked up, living life like a mack Bandaids, whoa, nigga racks The drama? Baby, I don't need that The headache? Baby, I don't need that I need more than bags, bags, bags Bags, bags, bags I need more than bags, bags, bags Bags, bags, bags, bags, bags [Verse 2: Jay Worthy] Eyes rolling to the back of my head Boachella, no selling like my service is dead Hoes yelling fuck me, why you leave me on read? Well, first off, I ain't mean it, I was hanging with friends Yeah, I pulled up in Benz, yeah, I left in a Wraith I be wondering if it's love when I was brought up with hate Send her ass on a date, yeah, I used to do that They be like who is that in the Beamer all black? On 22's, deuce-deuce shit right on my lap Sagging in my BAPEs with the burgundy rag Your bitch is married, your niggas scary These problems piling up, ho, you deadly than a motherfucker Thirty-something with no kids, it's amazing to her Her friends raving to her, the crib wasn't vacant at first I had the Staples full of stallions who paid for the verse Furniture from Italy, same brand it say on her purse [Chorus: Larry June] Racked up, living life like a mack Bandaids, whoa, nigga racks The drama? Baby, I don't need that The headache? Baby, I don't need that I need more than bags, bags, bags Bags, bags, bags I need more than bags, bags, bags Bags, bags, bags, bags, bags