[INTRO — SPOKEN / LOW BASS] Hold up. Before you come in here… What you got in that bag? Nah, I’m serious. Because every time somebody walk out my house with a bag, something mysteriously disappears. And I’m tired of playing “Where the fuck did my shit go?” So let me make this real simple… Don’t come in my house with no damn bag. ──────── [VERSE 1 — SMOOTH, THEN BUILDING] You came through chilling, said you only staying for a minute. Two hours later, you still sitting in my kitchen. You say, “I’m comfortable.” Motherfucker, this ain’t the Ritz. You’re comfortable because it’s not your shit. You walking room to room like you’re taking a fucking tour. Opening drawers, touching everything— What the hell you looking for? You went into the closet. Why? You opened up the cabinet. Why? You walked toward my bedroom. Hold the fuck up— who sent you? You came in with nothing. Now you’re leaving with a bag. That’s not a visit. That’s a shopping trip with no receipt attached. ──────── [PRE-CHORUS] I shouldn’t have to watch my own belongings when you come around. I shouldn’t have to count my shit when you walk out the house. If I invite you inside, that’s hospitality. It ain’t an invitation to inventory me. ──────── [CHORUS — BIG / CATCHY] DON’T COME IN MY HOUSE WITH NO BAG! If you came empty-handed, leave empty-handed. DON’T COME IN MY HOUSE WITH NO BAG! I don’t wanna wonder what you took when you leave. Don’t touch my clothes. Don’t touch my food. Don’t touch my drawers. Don’t touch my room. You came over to see me— NOT TO SHOP! So when you leave my house… LEAVE WITH WHAT YOU BROUGHT! ──────── [VERSE 2 — THE REFRIGERATOR] Now let’s talk about my refrigerator. Why the fuck you opening it? You didn’t ask. You just walked over like your name was on the lease. “What you got in here?” Food. That’s what I got in here. Food that I bought with money that I earned. I pull out my plate— “Ooooh, what you eating?” Why? You got a nose. Smell it from over there. Then you wanna say, “Can I get some?” No. Because this is my dinner. I didn’t cook for the neighborhood. And stop opening my refrigerator every seventeen minutes. This ain’t Discovery Channel. There ain’t nothing new in there. ──────── [CHORUS] DON’T COME IN MY HOUSE WITH NO BAG! If you came empty-handed, leave empty-handed. DON’T COME IN MY HOUSE WITH NO BAG! I don’t wanna wonder what you took when you leave. Don’t touch my clothes. Don’t touch my food. Don’t touch my drawers. Don’t touch my room. You came over to see me— NOT TO SHOP! So when you leave my house… LEAVE WITH WHAT YOU BROUGHT! ──────── [VERSE 3 — THE CLOTHES] Then here come the clothing requests. “Can I borrow this?” “Can I wear that?” “You don’t wear it no more.” Bitch, that’s not the point. It’s still my shit. “Can I keep it?” No. “But you got plenty.” And you got a mouth. Use it to say thank you. Don’t go through my closet like you’re styling yourself. You ain’t my fashion consultant. You don’t get to turn my wardrobe into your personal department store. And please don’t put my clothes on without asking. Because now I’m looking at you like— “Why the fuck you wearing my shirt?” ──────── [VERSE 4 — THE LATE-NIGHT GUEST] And why the hell are you still here at four in the morning? You came over at eight. It’s four. That’s not a visit. That’s a residential transition. You done ate. You done showered. You done charged your phone. You done connected to my Wi-Fi. You done watched three movies. At this point, you need a mailbox. Then when I say, “You gotta go.” Now you’re offended. “Damn, you kicking me out?” YES. Because I’m tired. I want my bed. I want my food. I want my silence. I wanna walk around my own house without having to say, “Excuse me,” to somebody who doesn’t fucking live here. ──────── [BREAKDOWN — FUNNY / SPOKEN] And don’t do that shit where you sit there getting quiet because I told you to leave. Now you’re mad. You’re packing slow. One sock at a time. Looking at me like I’m breaking your heart. Get your shoes. Get your phone charger. Get your jacket. And please… GET THE FUCK OUT. ──────── [BRIDGE — SOULFUL / SERIOUS] My home is where I find my peace. My home is where I let my guard down. So if I open that door for you, respect the space I trusted you with. Don’t mistake kindness for unlimited access. Don’t mistake friendship for ownership. Don’t mistake hospitality for entitlement. Because the quickest way to lose access to my house is to disrespect what I built inside it. ──────── [VERSE 5 — RAP / RAPID FIRE] Don’t touch the dresser. Don’t touch the closet. Don’t touch my nightstand. Don’t touch my pockets. Don’t touch my shoes. Don’t touch my jewelry. Don’t touch my electronics. And don’t touch shit that don’t belong to you. If you didn’t buy it— don’t claim it. If I didn’t give it— don’t take it. If I didn’t offer it— don’t ask again. polo energy
