Y’all know how the fuck we rockin’ man
Whole lotta gang shit bitch
Everybody know my name put respect on it
I justed copped a new whip spent a check on it
Rubberband Cartel
You ain’t really with the shits
Put them Glocks up
Free the gang out that mothafuckin’ lock up
Like a janitor yo ass can get mopped up
So you better have yo’ gun when we Pop up
If I really want you gone
I ain’t gone diss you
I put my shooters on yo’ ass
They gone blitz you
We be blasting off those guns like some missiles
I got 50 in this drum I ain’t gone miss you
Steppin’ out with my 30 yea’, we Pop out
Catch an opp on his ass let them shots out
Wait outside in the whip, ’till he walk out
Gun Shot gun shots now it’s cop sounds
Rob the plug hit his ass with the fake out
Glizzy on me, give a fuck if the jakes out
Whole lotta gang shit bitch
Everybody know my name put respect on it
I justed copped a new whip spent a check on it
Rubberband Cartel
You ain’t really with the shits
Put them Glocks up
Free the gang out that mothafuckin’ lock up
Like a janitor yo ass can get mopped up
So you better have yo’ gun when we Pop up
If I really want you gone
I ain’t gone diss you
I put my shooters on yo’ ass
They gone blitz you
We be blasting off those guns like some missiles
I got 50 in this drum I ain’t gone miss you
Steppin’ out with my 30 yea’, we Pop out
Catch an opp on his ass let them shots out
Wait outside in the whip, ’till he walk out
Gun Shot gun shots now it’s cop sounds
Rob the plug hit his ass with the fake out
Glizzy on me, give a fuck if the jakes out
If you really want smoke, bring the K out
Put his ass in a box, like some take out
Fuck that bitch, then I fuck on her cousin
She give me brain that’s concussion
I been on the map since a youngin
Had to run up a bag, now I’m thumbin’
We ain’t locking bitch, we get to drummin’
40 shells leave you hot like the summer
When we pull up they know how we comin’
When they see us I bet they start running
Got the pack and got robbed, you got nothin’
You ain’t makin’ no money quit bluffin’
Stop all of that tweeting you frontin’
My savage will kill you for Nothing
Balmain on my ass cost a G
You ain’t smokin’ on gas, that shit weak
If he want a verse, that’s a fee
I fell in love with the blue cheese
If he tweakin’ I’ll shoot at a fiend
Try to rob, then I’ll give his ass wings
Goofy ass you can’t run from a beam
The Glock take him right off his feet
It’s a lot of sneak dissin’ for some fuckin’ clout
Goofy ass don’t lose your life tryna run yo’ mouth
Put his ass in a box, like some take out
Fuck that bitch, then I fuck on her cousin
She give me brain that’s concussion
I been on the map since a youngin
Had to run up a bag, now I’m thumbin’
We ain’t locking bitch, we get to drummin’
40 shells leave you hot like the summer
When we pull up they know how we comin’
When they see us I bet they start running
Got the pack and got robbed, you got nothin’
You ain’t makin’ no money quit bluffin’
Stop all of that tweeting you frontin’
My savage will kill you for Nothing
Balmain on my ass cost a G
You ain’t smokin’ on gas, that shit weak
If he want a verse, that’s a fee
I fell in love with the blue cheese
If he tweakin’ I’ll shoot at a fiend
Try to rob, then I’ll give his ass wings
Goofy ass you can’t run from a beam
The Glock take him right off his feet
It’s a lot of sneak dissin’ for some fuckin’ clout
Goofy ass don’t lose your life tryna run yo’ mouth
He say he got them shooters, tell him bring them out
If he hiding in his crib then we wet his house
I was fucking on his bitch on his momma couch
‘Cause she know I got them bandz in my bank account
I’m not just anybody, I can’t walk around
That’s why I pull up in a foreign with the top down
I be rocking all designer from my head to toe
Let a fuckboy try to rob me, boy I can’t go
I ain’t going for that shit, somebody let him know
If he run up on me wrong i’ma let it blow
Gang gang gang gang
Y’all know how the fuck we rockin’ man
Whole lotta gang shit that sane shit
2K17 shit bitch
Rubberband Cartel
If he hiding in his crib then we wet his house
I was fucking on his bitch on his momma couch
‘Cause she know I got them bandz in my bank account
I’m not just anybody, I can’t walk around
That’s why I pull up in a foreign with the top down
I be rocking all designer from my head to toe
Let a fuckboy try to rob me, boy I can’t go
I ain’t going for that shit, somebody let him know
If he run up on me wrong i’ma let it blow
Gang gang gang gang
Y’all know how the fuck we rockin’ man
Whole lotta gang shit that sane shit
2K17 shit bitch
Rubberband Cartel
2 comments:
I read some of the lyrics and couldn't bring myself to hit play Linh. I'm guessing that these guys are studio murderers only. Something to inspire the real ones. Something for the kids across the street to twerk to.
so nice to see white suburban kids can sound just like ghetto negro gang members. i still remember the 70s and 80s--elo, billy joel, blondie, james taylor etc.
cheers,
dan
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