Video Big Bag Y A Grin de Afrodisiac 2025 Lyrics Lyrics

Afrodisiac - Big Bag Y A Grin Lyrics

[Intro]
Afro, you a fool for this one

[Chorus: SmokeyGM]
Bitch, I'm him with a big bag and a grin
And a big ol’ .40, knock the hair off your chin
There go the gems, here, baby, tuck this in
'Cause if you don't, they gon’ prolly ship me off to the pen
I'm built to win, I don't do this shit for pretend
Lot of niggas slide through, burn 'em down like a cig
We split wigs, mafia, we snatch up bands
Better keep her over there before I— (C'mon, c'mon) ayy-ayy

[Verse 1: SmokeyGM]
Nigga, on my baby
You from over there? Cool, bitch, I'm Goon Mob crazy
Wait, pause, think I-think I left my Drakey
I just popped two Perks and my leg keep shaking
On God, YMG, designer dreams
I introduce your bitch to the finer things
That's on the mob, high like trees, I’m fly like bees
I’m Mr. Keep-a-Stick-in-Designer-Jeans
Ayy, gang shit, lemme cut up
I just hit it from the back with no rubber
I just fucked and dismissed, I don't love her
Glock with a drum, lethal weapon, Danny Glover
I know they don’t like me, so I gotta stay on toes
And I already got some money, but I pray on more
You's a bitch, you the type to hate on hoes
I'm the type to get it out 'em ’til my chain on froze
On the clique, on the guys, whole gang on heads
Made her stuff a jar of thirties in between her legs
These prescriptions got me sick, bitch, I stay on meds
Free my dawgs out that jam, screaming fuck the feds
On Jeezy, we ain't never had it easy
We [?][1:19] whips, I fucked on this bitch, it's greasy
Get cash out a bitch, blow bands on the clique they [?][1:23]
This gas got me sick, can't breath on a bitch like Stevie
[Chorus: SmokeyGM]
I'm him with a big bag and a grin
And a big ol' .40, knock the hair off your chin
There go the gems, here, baby, tuck this in
'Cause if you don't, they gon' prolly ship me off to the pen
I'm built to win, I don't do this shit for pretend
Lot of niggas slide through, burn 'em down like a cig
We split wigs, mafia, we snatch up bands
Better keep her over there before I snatch your bitch, ayy-ayy

[Verse 2: Fenix Flexin]
Bitch, I'm really him, though (Bitch)
Glock .40 with extendos (Boom)
Ayy, stand down on my ten toes
Real foes nigga, we don't bend, we gon' break those (Ooh-ooh)
Make hoes, nigga, outta nothin' (Outta nothin')
I'm a shooter, I'ma bust a nigga pumpkin (Get 'em gone)
She a thooter, I'ma pimp her, ain't no cuffin' (Ayy-ayy)
Pussy-ass nigga in the crib playing husband
Damn (Damn), that shit sad (That shit sad)
Fenix Flexin, boy, I'm really in my bag (In my bag)
I be buying all them things I never had (Ooh-ooh)
F and N, blue tips in the mag
Nigga, that shit rippin' through a vest (Baow)
And a house, I'ma put it to the test
Ayy, I dont need the bitch, I'ma free the ho (Free the ho)
Fenix Flexin got more feet than a sneaker store (Good feet)
I'm in San Diego like a Padre (Like a Padre)
Told that bitch yeah, it's my way or the highway (Skrrt)
Baby, I'm a P, I dont take Ls (I dont take Ls)
And if I get caught, I'ma make bail (Fft, beep)