Trash Bag King - Neef Buck

Brand new Rover, new Car odor

Super charge on you broads, man, I tried to told you

I don’t live today, I stack chips for tomorrow

Niggas' always owing because you’re always borrowing

Tearing up my phone, we ain’t like that homes

America and TD Banks, hand out loans

Thought you was sending beats, you emailed me your song

Your favorite rappers a pussy nigga, hand him a thong

I know the difference between friends and associates

Niggas' will kill and squeal, watch who you go and get

Have you sitting down for conspiracy

I’ma pay for your lawyer, don’t need no rap fee

When I’m alone in my room

Sometimes I star at the wall, and in the back of my mind

All I know is to ball

Tell a chick «Get dressed», cuz I ain’t looking for love

It’s Bucky Rogers and I got it if you need you a plug

I’m the trash bag king (3x)

That’s right, I bring it in a trash bag, don’t forget the hashtag

I got my eyes on the prize, they wanna kill my demise

I’m bulletproof in the ride, wanted in suits and them ties

And hard bottoms, they ain’t just make yours, we all got them

Heckler and Koch nigga, shoot through blocks

Give my young niggas' a knot, straight open your top

Cuz they don’t care about the next 30 minutes

By time them percs ware off, It’s already finished

New Audemar, the shit swimming

Kitchen;

the certified chemist

If you ain’t bout that life then mind your business

You can turn me down, real niggas' turn me up

I don’t rely on rap money so who gives a fuck?

It’s King Rodgers, must I remind you?

Cemetery road, where they find you

My word is my bond, that’s on my momma

And I’m taking 12, so fuck you your honor

When I’m alone in my room

Sometimes I star at the wall, and in the back of my mind

All I know is to ball

Tell a chick «Get dressed», cuz I ain’t looking for love

It’s Bucky Rogers and I got it if you need you a plug

I’m the trash bag king (3x)

That’s right, I bring it in a trash bag, don’t forget the hashtag

When I cop Kilos;

pure white cocaine

When he cop Kilos;

Cuban Link rope chains

Get your head knocked off your shoulder

You wanna see my arm and hammer like Baking Soda

Pits on social but poodles when we approach you

Your dead beat baby mommas' always roast you

You ain’t 100, you just appear to be

99%, that ain’t real to me

How you look in the mirror, disrespecting the code?

You condoning that shit, you fuck with niggas' that told

And, yeah hoe, I hit some chicks that you know

Since that IG flow, all my ladies;

extra joe

I knocked them all down with no feelings

I would name names but baby fathers’ll kill them

Just so happened, the same crew

I’ma lover and a fighter, what the fuck you gonna do?

When I’m alone in my room

Sometimes I star at the wall, and in the back of my mind

All I know is to ball

Tell a chick «Get dressed», cuz I ain’t looking for love

It’s Bucky Rogers and I got it if you need you a plug

I’m the trash bag king (3x)

That’s right, I bring it in a trash bag, don’t forget the hashtag