We Don’t Play About Rubberbands
Project Pat, Jimmy Get Money, Juicy J
We don't play about the work
And the rubber bands
Fuck with my rubber bands, it's a murder man
If it's money on the table they
Get wronged and they gone die
Penitentiary chance to get this cash
I'm wrong but a nigga gone try
Fuck police and them snitches
Sons of bitches bullets can fly
Choppa bullets baked like chicken pie pie
If you real like you say you is
The streets gone tell it no lie
If you phony get fucked like a slut
When dunked kicked out good bye
I'm gone always hustle on the low
So my pockets stay high
I got thugs who at them triggers
Blow one snap my finger you die
Blowing gas straight from Mexico
That's why my brains at the sky
Talking about taking something
They good though, colombian they tie
Call me straight up the banana boat
Now I'm gone flood the town
Making plays like the Superbowl
Each one touchdown
My fingers tired, from counting fifty
Triple bands, only hunnas
I don’t fuck with twenties
Unless they young and they
Hungry for the dick, drugs
More dick, another bitch, drugs
Fucking 2 bitches with fore gloves
Yo nigga lost his bitch
I'm walking in on some ball shit
Juicy J I talk money, I don't talk shit
I wan't it all, I don't care what the cost is
I'm so motherfucking fly
I should star on Star Trek
And they should bring the show back
Let me show niggas how to swag money talk
I promise I heard your money laugh
I ain't got no bones to pick with my past
All of the niggas owe me money
Dead in the grass catching my ashes
From the end of my weed smoke
Rubber bands, my jewelry nigga
Diamonds is my weed man
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