French Montana, Harry Fraud - Run That Bag Up lyrics
[French Montana, Harry Fraud - Run That Bag Up lyrics]
French Montana
They ain't gone like you
I put my right hand to God
It's a lesson in depression
When the fam's involved
Can't stress it on the edge
But got plans to ball
Tuck the bread in case the feds
Take the land and cars
Broke her heart now she one of them Bloods
Full of drugs
Left them dryin', ask town for the flood
Feelin like Big L on them corners of Lennox
Promise ain't make a dollar off
Them memes and gimmicks
Let me finish you can have it back
Before these diamonds dancing
We was takin' chances
Smoking cancer and flippin' packs
Verse one, chapter four, page six
Whippin raw, bad bitches choppin' bricks
Run that bag up
Run that bag up
Run that bag up
Load up the box
Trap out the vacant
Fuck her she toxic
God had the plans
Run that bag up
Run up the bag
I'm in that turtle top
Shells fly out the back
I throw that bag up
Then put your head on your lap
We ain't beef on no computers I
Hop out with the MAC
Talking body after body
Still fuck with Juliani
They don't wanna see nobody get
A brand new Bugatti
I be high, shorty tryna look in my eyes
But I ain't that
I was hustlin' they was born in money
And that ain't fair
We was feelin' like God don't love us
Now we sign black and white and
Cop the coupes in colors
Man I feel like John Gotti
When he killed Castellano
Tryna cop a crib
Build the gate and wall like Donald
From the mud, we ain't dried yet
Gave 'em the biggest wave and
We ain't get to fly
Twelve hours set, all hit's, more straps
More licks, more movies
More flicks, more money
More bricks
Run that bag up
Run that bag up
Run that bag up
Load up the box
Trap out the vacant
Fuck her she toxic
God had the plans
Run that bag up
Run up the bag
I'm in that turtle top
Shells fly out the back
They ain't gone like you
I put my right hand to God
It's a lesson in depression
When the fam's involved
Can't stress it on the edge
But got plans to ball
Tuck the bread in case the feds
Take the land and cars
Broke her heart now she one of them Bloods
Full of drugs
Left them dryin', ask town for the flood
Feelin like Big L on them corners of Lennox
Promise ain't make a dollar off
Them memes and gimmicks
Let me finish you can have it back
Before these diamonds dancing
We was takin' chances
Smoking cancer and flippin' packs
Verse one, chapter four, page six
Whippin raw, bad bitches choppin' bricks
Run that bag up
Run that bag up
Run that bag up
Load up the box
Trap out the vacant
Fuck her she toxic
God had the plans
Run that bag up
Run up the bag
I'm in that turtle top
Shells fly out the back
I throw that bag up
Then put your head on your lap
We ain't beef on no computers I
Hop out with the MAC
Talking body after body
Still fuck with Juliani
They don't wanna see nobody get
A brand new Bugatti
I be high, shorty tryna look in my eyes
But I ain't that
I was hustlin' they was born in money
And that ain't fair
We was feelin' like God don't love us
Now we sign black and white and
Cop the coupes in colors
Man I feel like John Gotti
When he killed Castellano
Tryna cop a crib
Build the gate and wall like Donald
From the mud, we ain't dried yet
Gave 'em the biggest wave and
We ain't get to fly
Twelve hours set, all hit's, more straps
More licks, more movies
More flicks, more money
More bricks
Run that bag up
Run that bag up
Run that bag up
Load up the box
Trap out the vacant
Fuck her she toxic
God had the plans
Run that bag up
Run up the bag
I'm in that turtle top
Shells fly out the back