This is a song about "Got bands"

Fainthearted bands of lesser rappers drowned in the ensuing storm

Want you all to listen so i rap it in election form

Got high and my brain got mushy...

Third ward general, young cash money

Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands

Gimme a hundred grand, don't need the rubber bands,

In earth, as it is in heaven

U got 1000 enemies i got none

Just a feeling i've got

And i don't make no bed rock

I got my drink, i got my music

Me, wale, so hard - as shit

Pirelli on my tires, call me 6 bands

I got a green bag with them blue strands