This is a song about "Rob thomas"

Remember popping and locking to kurtis blow, the name belts

For things they would rob for, pickin' pockets in the projects,

Rob a bank, i'd drive for my motherfuckin' nigga

And we better than all these mutha fuckas up in this era

It gets me madder than a mob, it gets me thinkin' i'd rather rob

Give me tall glass, coconut ciroc, please, no soda pop

Amazing and fire blazing ill rob your retirement savings

Cuz she came back with the kid and yoi been payin ever since

Big rob whaddya think nocturnal means

Haters eyes gettin' wide like bench seats

Loot banks, rob stores and call yo mamma a whore

Sure runnin' like i'm heavy hardcore

Faces, sex on the white sand beaches of saint thomas, though this ain't

They see me in that lavender tank, you'd rather just faint