Lyrics
Ayy, yuh, yeah, yuh
Yuh, what, ayy, what, ayy, what, ayy, what
Ayy, yuh (Nibxl, nibxl, Darkie)
Ayy, yuh, yeah, yuh, ayy, yeah
Ayy, yeah, yeah, ayy, ayy, bitch
I'm the xanman
Forty bands in my pants
Yeah I'm the man
Rubber bands in my pocket
Gotta hold them bands
Wanna flex bitch
I ain't got pounds up to grab
Ayy yo, yeah like play-doh
Gotta lay low, stay hold oh
Go where I know I know
Seeing nowhere else to go
I got a hundred reasons to go and do dope
Bitch if you wanna fuck with me?
It ain't that easy
Go and use your stupid fucking feet and roll me a blunt
Get it too dirty and I swear you're gonna get it
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
*Cough*
I run that fucking check up
I let the thirty hit, you dirty bitch
You acting real flirty but are you worthy bitch
I walk to the party with a blunt of my own
And come here alone
We smoking
Posted outside your home
We ain't come here to yak
But I might have to run to the back
Make tracks it will end up
I'ma assure to my slacks that's facts
Cause my **** talking business that real brass tax
Blast past as I'm burning that grass that smacks
Uh, ain't been missing for long
Hey **** you want to go take rips off the bong
Bitch
Uh, huh, I'm the xanman
Forty bands in my pants
**** I'm the man
Keep the ratchet in my pocket
Then I let it blam
Trying to flex bitch
I got piggies on my fucking lamb
Bitch uh, I'm the xanman
Forty bands in my pants
**** I'm the man
Uber bands in my pockets, I ain't using hands
Wanna flex bitch, I ain't got pounds up to grab
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Written by: dennis lubalin
