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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
*Intro* Yeah it's yo' boy Project Pat up in this thang this go out to all hustlers In the Dirty South, Midwest, East Coast, West Coast Err'body with stacks in yo' pocket Reach into your pocket mang, and let it be known! *Chorus* I'm a pure brick of blow Do you understand me? I'm a walkin' bankroll You can rubberband me You can rubberband me You can rubberband me I'm a walkin' bankroll You can rubberband me x2 Rubberbands on my wrist / 'Cos the stacks on deck Robbers get a deathwish / .40 cal to the neck 50 G's on my wrist / I'm'a get my respect Have you talkin' wit' a lisp / Once the hollows eject Gucci shoes on my feet / Gucci luggage is the gear Ridin 30"s on a Hummer / '07 is the year Smokin purple marijuana / Sippin purp' in a cup Ghetto nigga wit' some money / buy the bar, nigga what Ain't no slack in my mack / 'Cos there's cheese to be gotten All this candy on the chevy / Make a hater's eyes rotten 20 G's in my pockets / Spend it all at the mall Girl flaggin' me down / an egyptian lookin' broad Chorus x2 (This how real niggas do it, this how real niggas do it!) Peanut buttery guts with an orange paint job Stripper club flash money like I pulled a bank job Diamonds blind from the bezzle, see the Rolex watch Desert E. One in chamber so a nigga can't rob 24"s on the chevy ,they be "ooh that nigga clean girl" Evisu jeans, white tee, mang that nigga clean girl We trap with the 'caine, 'caine from Texas, the valley Smokin' good purple kush, comin' straight out of Cali Chain got so much ice mang, you can call me frosty They shine like my 24"s, you can call me flossy For jackers' eyes guns got me hostile You ain't Tom Cruise, 'cos your mission is impossible Chorusx2 |