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keep me a bag - good finesse lyrics

[intro: c5 tha reaper]
(ayy, moon, turn my sh*t up)
all type of pics, all type of pics

[chorus: c5 tha reaper & good finesse]
yeah, i’m not really tryna do the romance (do the romance)
i’m tryna stuff this forty*five in my pants (five in my pants)
but i still keep my son in my stash (son in the stash)
not in the gym, but i still keep a bag (money)
i’m not really tryna do the romance (do the romance)
i’m tryna stuff this forty*five in my pants (five in my pants)
but i still keep my son in my stash (son in the stash)
not in the gym, but i still keep a bag (money)

[verse 1: c5 tha reaper]
i cut ties with n*ggas, i’m tryna cosign these millions
yeah, the vibe is different, you be d*ck ridin’ n*ggas
all type of b*tches, i got all type of pistols
yeah, karate kickin’, i’m tryna body a n*gga
new swiss with the tips, i’m excited, n*gga (yeah)
i put the d*ck in your b*tch, now her ass gettin’ bigger
exotic whips in the field, yeah, i’m parkin’ different
i used to fall to the back and my life got richer
you better fall to the back ‘fore you strip them n*ggas
can’t stand a b*tton b*tch that always wanna ask them questions
dora explorer with the map, i’ma find these millions
but right now i’m in the trap countin’ up chicken
[chorus: c5 tha reaper & good finesse]
yeah, i’m not really tryna do the romance (do the romance)
i’m tryna stuff this forty*five in my pants (five in my pants)
but i still keep my son in my stash (son in the stash)
not in the gym, but i still keep a bag (money)
i’m not really tryna do the romance (do the romance)
i’m tryna stuff this forty*five in my pants (five in my pants)
but i still keep my son in my stash (son in the stash)
not in the gym, but i still keep a bag

[verse 2: good finesse]
not in the gym, but i keep me a bag
you tryna learn, need a pen and a pad, all p*ssed off, all that chicken on neck
frostbite when you look at my ear
straight drop of the wock’, you be sippin’ on beer
i be droppin’ hard songs, sh*t your b*tch wanna hear
you ain’t really gettin’ money, that be takin’ a year
q*tip on your b*tch ’cause i’m all in her ear
i ain’t f*ckin’ with you n*ggas, man, you n*ggas is weird
bald fade with the wave, but i’m tapered money
all old booth drip, man, you n*ggas is bummy
maestros for a steak, put it right in my tummy
green light on this sh*t, so i’m takin’ the money

[chorus: c5 tha reaper & good finesse]
i’m not really tryna do the romance (do the romance)
i’m tryna stuff this forty*five in my pants (five in my pants)
but i still keep my son in my stash (son in the stash)
not in the gym, but i still keep a bag (money)
i’m not really tryna do the romance (do the romance)
i’m tryna stuff this forty*five in my pants (five in my pants)
but i still keep my son in my stash (son in the stash)
not in the gym, but i still keep a bag (money)

- good finesse lyrics

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