[Hook x2]
We don't play about the work and the rubber bands (x3)
Fuck with my rubber bands, its a murder man

[Verse 1: Project Pat]
If its money on the table they get wronged and they gone die
Penitentiary chance to get this cash, I'm wrong but a n***a 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

[Hook x2]

[Verse 2:Juicy J]
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 n***a 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 n***as 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 n***as owe me money, dead in the grass
Catching my ashes, from the end of my weed smoke
Rubber bands, my jewelry n***a, diamonds is my weed man
[Hook x2]