Nickel Bags Lyrics - Retch

[Intro] 

Okay this bag is sour, damn 

Like 

[Verse 1] 

Hey yo, my granny doin' 10 

I write her every single time I get a chance 

Down in France 

Rock designer pants 

Hey yo doggie, I need the paper in advance 

So I can lay up on the beach, skin tanned 

Pardon my stance from a distance 

My skin resemble that of a ruby, I'm usually glistenin' 

Spent time perfectin' my crime up in the kitchen 

After school baggin', I broke 'em off a distance 

(?) 

Fuck the court, I never play by the rules 

I fuck a bitch in the bed with my shoes 

Hit the party, touch a hundred hands 

That's how it goes when you the fuckin' man 

Pose for a pic just to get you off of my dick 

I got these bitches and these bottles in my section 

But they wanna talk more rappin' shit and badger me with questions 

I'm like I'm tryna lamp and smoke dope in the club 

And round me my mans yokin' you up 

What the fuck 

[Hook] 

Remember I was selling nickel bags of reefer 

High as fuck in class tryna hide it from the teacher 

Back when all my money used go to sneakers 

Now I'm coolin' on the boat and blessed a bitch to blow my penis 

Cause we started from the bottom, posted in the huddle 

Nothin' had nothin', grew up in the struggle 

Always had the same friends, those are hard to come by 

Shout out to the drugs though, kept a nigga dumb fly 

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[Verse 2] 

This that young Tony Lo shit, product of the corner store 

Back when I was on the bikes tryna get the order off 

Cop a dutch from papi, they be gettin' in the Spanish spot 

When the cops come we often ran a lot 

Slide in the crib 

Finesse my bitch, throw the cock in her rib 

I'm smokin' dope while she toppin' the kid 

Complete a heist 

I'm set for the rest of my life 

Start a family, move to Washington Heights 

Change my name to Tito 

Cop them 50's down them blocks in Rico 

My whole life is like a fuckin' free throw 

Swish 

I'm at the bank with a spliff 

Sold weight, might take a dip 

New York shit 

Fuck so many bitches, shout out to the internet 

Tip my fuckin' hat to who I'm finna dead 

You that guy 

These niggas food, nigga you that pie 

Better that I nigga, you that high 

Ha-ha 

Photos 

[Hook] 

Remember I was selling nickel bags of reefer 

High as fuck in class tryna hide it from the teacher 

Back when all my money used go to sneakers 

Now I'm coolin' on the boat and blessed a bitch to blow my penis 

Cause we started from the bottom, posted in the huddle 

Nothin' had nothin', grew up in the struggle 

Always had the same friends, those are hard to come by 

Shout out to the drugs though, kept a nigga dumb fly