[Intro]
She asked me what's my name, I'm the Rubberband Man (Mob)
[Chorus]
She asked me what's my name, I'm the Rubberband Man
Bitch, fuck what you sayin', I'm the Rubberband Man
She asked me what's my name, I'm the Rubberband Man
Bitch, fuck all that playin', I'm the Rubberband Man (Green money)
I'm the Rubberband Man (Old money), meet the Rubberband Man
I'm the Rubberband Man, meet the Rubberband Man, yeah
[Verse 1]
Rubber bands, got it stacked in a box
Lil' nigga, is you havin' or not?
Count a hundred-thirty G's at my lil' base spot (Yeah)
They'll lass out your grass just to get what you got
Not out though, my BM ride Forgiatos, dodgin' potholes
Thick bread, hella cheese, nigga, this a gang roll
I'ma fuck her all night, turn the lil' bitch psycho
I touched up mine and bring the head and this is not a typo
We got that young Michael (Brown boy)
Yeah, the mix we got, we can turn that shit white, nigga
The hype die, I just hope you'll be alright, nigga (Alright)
I hit the mic' and bleed my soul, this my life, nigga
I'm in H. Lorenzo, the shit I cop, could've put down for a benzo
She keep fuckin' lame niggas, put her in the friend zone
I got conversation pieces, so I let my wrist show
Ridin' with me, glizzy with the switch on it
Every week I got this shit, you might go ask big four
Mr. Put-That-Shit-On
Mr. Go-And-Get-That-Bag-And-Show-These-Niggas-How-To-Do
Candy on the old school look just like a Prada shooter
Rule motherfucker, fuckin' don't acknowledge you
How you turned the crib smaller than a fuckin' college room?
Did my thing on peace street, road deal, columns too
Money flyin' in the room, bitches like "Who is you?"
She asked me what's my name, I'm the Rubberband Man (Mob)
[Chorus]
She asked me what's my name, I'm the Rubberband Man
Bitch, fuck what you sayin', I'm the Rubberband Man
She asked me what's my name, I'm the Rubberband Man
Bitch, fuck all that playin', I'm the Rubberband Man (Green money)
I'm the Rubberband Man (Old money), meet the Rubberband Man
I'm the Rubberband Man, meet the Rubberband Man, yeah
[Verse 1]
Rubber bands, got it stacked in a box
Lil' nigga, is you havin' or not?
Count a hundred-thirty G's at my lil' base spot (Yeah)
They'll lass out your grass just to get what you got
Not out though, my BM ride Forgiatos, dodgin' potholes
Thick bread, hella cheese, nigga, this a gang roll
I'ma fuck her all night, turn the lil' bitch psycho
I touched up mine and bring the head and this is not a typo
We got that young Michael (Brown boy)
Yeah, the mix we got, we can turn that shit white, nigga
The hype die, I just hope you'll be alright, nigga (Alright)
I hit the mic' and bleed my soul, this my life, nigga
I'm in H. Lorenzo, the shit I cop, could've put down for a benzo
She keep fuckin' lame niggas, put her in the friend zone
I got conversation pieces, so I let my wrist show
Ridin' with me, glizzy with the switch on it
Every week I got this shit, you might go ask big four
Mr. Put-That-Shit-On
Mr. Go-And-Get-That-Bag-And-Show-These-Niggas-How-To-Do
Candy on the old school look just like a Prada shooter
Rule motherfucker, fuckin' don't acknowledge you
How you turned the crib smaller than a fuckin' college room?
Did my thing on peace street, road deal, columns too
Money flyin' in the room, bitches like "Who is you?"
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!