[Intro]
Think it's a game
Bobby Kritical
Ooh, huh

[Verse 1]
Too much bands, n***a can't hold up his pants
Hit the club doin' my dance
I been gettin' way too money, trappin' all night
So I give the bitch pipe when I can
I been on way too many Delta flights
So the pilot and the flight attendants know who I am
Used to serve grams out a grey Dodge van
Even back then, I was doin' my dance
Even my teachers said I wouldn't be shit
Even my priest said I wouldn't be shit
That's why I spent that much on my wrist
That's why I spent that much on your bitch
I'm the same n***a, I ain't never had shit
I'm the same young n***a that was gettin' wick'
Better not think this shit no lick
I can make one call, get your whole shit flipped, bitch

[Chorus]
Yeah
Young n***a walk around with a whole hundred on him, goddamn (Ooh shit, goddamn, goddamn)
Young n***a walk around with a whole hundred bands (Shit, shit)
Hit the strip club, these bitches know just who I am (Hah, it's Q Money)
Hit the strip club, blow that money like a fan (Ain't shit funny)
Got too much bands (Yeah)
Battle of the bands in my pants (It's goin')
N***a, you a fan (Goddamn)
I'm poppin' shit like a Xan', poppin' shit, Perc-10 (Yeah)
Private jet when I land (Private jet)
Palm trees in the sand (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Bought a new FN
Hit you and your mans (Fire, fire)
What the fuck is you sayin'? (Fire, fire)
Fuck is you sayin'? (Huh)
[Verse 2]
N***as counted me out, I was sleepin' on the couch
Why the fuck was you doubtin'? Yeah
Keep a nine on me, no golf, yeah
N***a had to find his way out, yeah
N***a had to take a different route
Fuck around, got a deal, then moved to the South (Think It's a Game)
Yeah, I was tryna make my mama proud
Remember when her ass used to kick me out
Now I'm 'bout to fuck around, buy a new house
And guess what? Still gon' fuck on her couch
Fuck 'round, get my mouth bustdown
My grandma told me to invest in my smile
Brand new Rollie with a Arabic dial
Bought a bracelet 'cause the other hand felt left out
Two-tone Cuban on my neck right now
Just like my wrist, your bitch bustdown, yeah

[Chorus]
Yeah
Young n***a walk around with a whole hundred on him, goddamn (Goddamn, goddamn)
Young n***a walk around with a whole hundred bands (That's a fact, n***a)
Hit the strip club, these bitches know just who I am (It's Q Money)
Hit the strip club, blow that money like a fan (Ain't shit funny)
Got too much bands (Yeah)
Battle of the bands in my pants
N***a, you a fan (For real)
I'm poppin' shit like a Xan', poppin' shit, Perc-10 (Ten)
Private jet when I land (Land, land)
Palm trees in the sand
Bought a new FN (Fire)
Hit you and your mans (Fire)
What the fuck is you sayin'? (Fire)
Fuck is you sayin'?