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Same song, the other performance from the session (English take). Included with your keep. Owners download both.
Bandman. (yeah) Tre. (GANG)
Turn the sub up till the windows quit. (brrt)
Bands up! (Bands up!) Bands up! (Bands up!)
Broke boy talkin', I don't hear him, hands up
Bands up! (Bands up!) Bands up! (Bands up!)
Bitch I'm from Bankhead, all my cousins came up
Count it! (Count it!) Count it! (Count it!)
Money machine jammin', shit, I gotta re-mount it
Woke up, counted up, that's the morning prayer (amen)
Pint of that pink and a Perc in the air (yeah)
Trap house got a doorbell now, we fancy (fancy)
Told the plug "run it back" like a Nancy (talk to 'em)
Corner store hustle to a Hellcat purr (skrrt)
I don't do arguments, I do deposits (facts)
Broke boy hatin', put his name in the closet (GANG)
Get money, get money, that's the only wisdom (yeah)
Bands up! (Bands up!) Bands up! (Bands up!)
Broke boy talkin', I don't hear him, hands up
Bands up! (Bands up!) Bands up! (Bands up!)
Bitch I'm from Bankhead, all my cousins came up
Count it! (Count it!) Count it! (Count it!)
Money machine jammin', shit, I gotta re-mount it
Twenty racks in a Nike bag, that's a light day (light)
Shawty throwin' ass in the kitchen on a Friday (throw it)
Sub so loud the neighbors called the county (call 'em)
Told the judge I'm a motivational speaker, count me (ha)
I got bands like a marching section (bands)
Every dollar got a story, that's a lesson (yeah)
Ratchet as fuck but I tithe on Sunday (church)
Bankhead to the Benz lot, that's a one-way (skrrt)
Never fold, never fumble, never beg (never)
Hustle in my blood like a needle in my leg (GANG)
Cut it... cut it... cut it...
Bandman Tre, and the bands don't quit
BANDS!
Bands up! (Bands up!) Bands up! (Bands up!)
Broke boy talkin', I don't hear him, hands up
Bands up! (Bands up!) Bands up! (Bands up!)
Bitch I'm from Bankhead, all my cousins came up
Count it! (Count it!) Count it! (Count it!)
Money machine jammin', shit, I gotta re-mount it
BLAKK MAROON is a virtual artist of the SUPERMASSIVE Verse: a gruff gravel baritone deejaying the verses in patois, a clean melodic tenor on every hook, over trap 808s, staccato hats, brass stabs and air horns. Kingston yard to Miami night. Street, loyalty, God, women, no filth. AI-performed and disclosed.