No Samples Lyrics

[Verse 1: Gab]
Hold up, let me suit up
Hoopers better get they loot up
Neuter niggas on that court
I play to win, this is my sport
It's no debate, do not distort
You wanna quit? Then yell "abort"
f*ck who you call, hoe, call the Lord
Hit it up once, then Audi 4, look
You hear that mighty roar, why you lying for?
You like Tommy Ford, you ain't ever had a job before
Yeah, I'm mighty sure, I put the game on life support
Boy, watch me work
Look, you don't see these handles?
Limbs on swim just like sea mammals
I don't know him, I don't need no scandals
That's on wax, I don't blow out candles

[Verse 2: Blimes]
Coordinated the cadence which caffeinated the greatest
Waking up all your favorite rappers, masterful with the phrasing
Which orchestrated the haters to suck it or sit down
If you funky, we get hella James Brown with the "get down"
I hang with a dang conglomerate
My word is bond, better honor it
They astonished with all my wit
How they can't see me
Weekly, gotta see they optometrist
This beat is real loud so it's in my wheelhouse
That's bike shop, I put my own shit on suicide watch

[Chorus]
Don't f*ck up the bag
No samples, no samples
Don't fumble the racks
No handles, no handles
Don't f*ck up the bag
No samples, no samples Don't fumble the racks
No handles, no handles

[Verse 3: Blimes & Gab]
Man, I could hit threes from the bleachers
I could flip keys like Alisher
Y'all behind the keys on Tweeter like
("What you charge for the feature?")
I could take charge like a leader
Or cash by the stacks if it's fat, but you whack
So I don't really wanna take either
We don't do it 'less it's ether, I'ma kick back like it's FIFA
Gimmie Cheech and Chong, got blunts so Nia Long
Keep two peas we in a pod, what you trippin on?
We can scrap like we in a shop, mothaf*cka, I'm the Gifted God
We ping and pong, your whole rhythm's flawed
And we back in alignment
Get the bag, no consignment
You need to step back with the @ on the chime in
Before you get blocked like a lineman
You a prom night hymen, broke, and I'm hot like the climate
We like slow cookers to these onlookers
You know all good things take timing
Finna heat it up, might beef it up
They need a cut of this rhyming
Don't count me out when I'm in a bout
You know pressure make them diamonds

[Chorus]
Don't f*ck up the bag
No samples, no samples
Don't fumble the racks
No handles, no handles
Don't f*ck up the bag
No samples, no samples
Don't fumble the racks
No handles, no handles

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