Whole 100 lyrics

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

[Verse 1]
Too much bands, n*gga 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 b*tch 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 sh*t
Even my priest said I wouldn't be sh*t
That's why I spent that much on my wrist
That's why I spent that much on your b*tch
I'm the same n*gga, I ain't never had sh*t
I'm the same young n*gga that was gettin' wick'
Better not think this sh*t no lick
I can make one call, get your whole sh*t flipped, b*tch

[Chorus]
Yeah
Young n*gga walk around with a whole hundred on him, goddamn (Ooh sh*t, goddamn, goddamn)
Young n*gga walk around with a whole hundred bands (sh*t, sh*t)
Hit the strip club, these b*tches know just who I am (Hah, it's Q Money)
Hit the strip club, blow that money like a fan (Ain't sh*t funny)
Got too much bands (Yeah)
Battle of the bands in my pants (It's goin')
n*gga, you a fan (Goddamn)
I'm poppin' sh*t like a Xan', poppin' sh*t, 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 f*ck is you sayin'? (Fire, fire)
f*ck is you sayin'? (Huh)
[Verse 2]
n*ggas counted me out, I was sleepin' on the couch
Why the f*ck was you doubtin'? Yeah
Keep a nine on me, no golf, yeah
n*gga had to find his way out, yeah
n*gga had to take a different route
f*ck 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 f*ck around, buy a new house
And guess what? Still gon' f*ck on her couch
f*ck '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 b*tch bustdown, yeah

[Chorus]
Yeah
Young n*gga walk around with a whole hundred on him, goddamn (Goddamn, goddamn)
Young n*gga walk around with a whole hundred bands (That's a fact, n*gga)
Hit the strip club, these b*tches know just who I am (It's Q Money)
Hit the strip club, blow that money like a fan (Ain't sh*t funny)
Got too much bands (Yeah)
Battle of the bands in my pants
n*gga, you a fan (For real)
I'm poppin' sh*t like a Xan', poppin' sh*t, 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 f*ck is you sayin'? (Fire)
f*ck is you sayin'?