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Racks On Racks - YC/Young Jeezy/Yo Gottii/Bun B
Written by：Public Domain/Yc
YC YC what you got
Racks on racks on racks
We got racks on racks on racks
We got racks on racks on racks
Ay
We got rcks on racks on racks
She got acks on racks on racks
They got racks on racks on racks
Got campaign going so strong
Getting brain when I'm talking on the phone
Spending money when you're runnin' this long
Real street n***a ain't no clone
We at the top where we belong
Got lean rosé patron
Smokin' on 1000 dollars worth of strong
Well the club 'bout to hear this song
We got racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Racks ain't even tryna hold back
Still fresh as hell in my trues
Iced out okay cool
Strapped up know I keep that tool
That racks on racks so motherf**king fool
I'm about to glow me on TV
Everywhere you look you see YC
Hating ass niggas just wishing they were me
YC YC YC
Way too big for my my f**king jeans
I'm so fly I don't even got wings
Eyes real low just blame it on the green
Girl cut up got lean on lean
That shoebox shit over with
Spend 100 racks won't notice it
My bank account commas all over it
Racks on racks on racks
Young if it's convertible then how is it a hardtop
Bitch I hit one button my roof open like a hard spot
Make me throw my diamonds up bitch my life was hard knock
Had so much kush and Ciroc bitch I think my heart stop
Every night's a weekend every day's a Friday night
You ain't seen nothing yet bitch this just my Friday ice
87 brick fare yeah I'm talking thirty racks
All I sold is hundos where the f**k my twenties at
Racks on racks off see that blonde strip when my hat's off
Lookin' at my Rollie 'bout thirty grand what that cost
Smoke like I'm in Cali f**k takin' flight I blast off
Niggas talkin' tattooes we should have a tat off
Got racks on racks on racks naps on naps on naps
Just made a mill count another mill so put that on top of that
Way back in 2004 I told 'em it was a wrap
Now my life ain't my life no more I told you niggas a wrap oh
You claim you a dog my nigga I'm the vet
We can't even talk 'less you got the check
I guess that's why all of these niggas get bent
They said f**k a young nigga f**k a young nigga
I know it's some girls in the crowd right who wanna f*k a young nigga
Yeah
I roll one and roll another one bigger
Niggas thinkin' they sick well I'm sicker
Right I'm smoke my weed and I'm a drink my liquor
Better make sure you f**k your girl right 'fore I dick her down
I got racks on top of racks stacks on top of stacks
Bands on top of bands got me f**kin' her and her friends
Backwoods don't do papers that was just for my haters
Clap two times if you drunk
Got a bad bitch from the UK
She do everything I say
Go crazy when she hear music
She got Grove St. on replay
Got racks you don't understand
Money long from here to Japan
Know it good when she go no hands
Girl you got me in a trance
Got campaign going so strong
Getting brain when I'm talking on the phone
Spending money when you're runnin' this long
Real street nigga ain't no clone
We at the top where we belong
Got lean rosé patron
Smokin' on 1000 dollars worth of strong
Well the club 'bout to hear this song
We got racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
He got ain't even tryna hold back
Got racks on racks on racks y'all rap so wack on wax
Purple by the pound that's that Flacco haaaa
I make big plays I got big chips
Blew money like six crips
Switch gears like stick shifts
Fresh as hell I'm big Gipp
We buy cars y'all flip whips
Catch us smokin' that Quik Trip
Pitch piff that's a handspring
I like to call that a quick flip
Pull triggers like hamstrings
Boy I'm doin' my damn thing
Been blood with them bricks pimp
Get off a key like I can't sing
Got the seven on me like Vick jersey
Ridin' round and this bitch dirty
I'm the best hands down
They nicknamed me 6:30
And we young dose and YC
Redan road that's my street
Ask around on the Eastside
I'm the S H I T
Bun B I'm underground king
In the candy painted car on swang
With the top on drop and the trunk on pop
Boy you can't tell me a damn thang
Fifth wheel on the back just hang
Hit corners hit licks hit stains
With the grill in the front wood wheel in the blunts
You're on neon lights in my bank
Yeah I rep that P A T
One hundred yeah that's me
If you don't recognize you gon' see
I'm a straight up trill OG
In a black on black on black
Cadillac like a Mack on clacks
Try to jack and I will attack
It's a fact that I ain't givin' up my stacks like that
Call me Bobby Ray but it's not two names
Flyin' through the city all black Bruce Wayne
No not bombs over Baghdad
But on the track you can call me Usain
Haha
That's why they nervous hmmm like I'm flying on the plane with a turban
But I'm fly y'all just turbulence exit row emergency
Mayday
As a kid I was struck by lightning it's no wonder I'm electrifying
F**k a brainstorm I'll f**k around and cause a power outage
And it ain't no rivals if it was it'd be no survivors
Just gimme a hour I'll light it up like an Eiffel Tower
Got bales on top of bales scales on top of scales
I'm Mr All White got yay on top of yay
Got pills all on my phone these niggas know I'm wrong
Said fifty for a song and they won't leave me alone
Gotta front me a brick that ain't nothin' to you
Just ran through a ticket that ain't nothing to do
Yeah I love these streets like I love the booth
Mr Cocaine Muzik I'm 100 proof
Got white on white on white ice on ice on ice
And when I'm in the club it look like lights on lights on lights
Got campaign going so strong
Getting brain when I'm talking on the phone
Spending money when you're runnin' this long
Real street nigga ain't no clone
We at the top where we belong
Got lean rosé patron
Smokin' on 1000 dollars worth of strong
Well the club 'bout to hear this song
We got racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
He got ain't even tryna hold back
Racks on racks on racks I'm tryna smash and not call back
My name Wale you so silly wet my willie might call you a cab
Yeah riding around with that reefer scent
Riding around with Ms Reece and them
When I'm in the groove I can freak a tune
I'm smoother than alopecia skin
Hahaha
I shows out like dope when I put that flow down
Like soap when I put my clothes on I'm joking but I be foamed out
And all she want is more bags but all I want is more 1s
I told her bring that money back like all them racks is Nordstrom's
The tracks on snack off raps see stacks from back of my slacks
From X to the max in the Ac
If I ain't strapped then the gat's on scat
Then he black on em like Tae-Bo then he clap on 'em like bravo
Throw sacks on 'em like y'all hoes got racks on 'em like Tahoes
Young money cash money so strong keep scorin' I'ma bring it on home
Those Xans and the lean cause zones somethin' tan with a mean jawbone
Worldwide but I got fourth ways one hat carry like four blades
Petey pop off RIP free Lou been lootin' money since like fourth grade
I'm the shit nowadays so they wave no whips no chains I'm a slave
Let you niggas know Milita my gang MCN if you was thinkin' it's a game
See me with the twin buck a shimmy with the gauge
Wasn't bustin' Jimmy I'd be busy gettin' paid
Goin' for the grips every day 'til the grave
I be worried about the chips you be worried about the lays
Got Actavis in my Sprite Benjamins in my Robins
Frank Muller wit' flooded ice but I still got my breitling
In the fast lane gettin' slow brain in a 2012 Maserati
I'm kickin' pimpin' like Liu Kang my coupe smokin' like Friday
Puffin' on that garlic cigar full of Marley
Inked up on my hands and arms got them jams in my pocket
Shout out to sha money signed me in a hurry
Daddy was a kingpin a couple milli buried
Nigga you ain't talkin' nothin' all in flight club stuntin'
These exclusive 7s pay 400 for the Jordans
No you can't afford 'em sharper than a swordsman
Racks on racks our campaign strong and YC like my brother
Catch me in the city with the trunk on crack
Top dropped down black on black
Fistful of wood Swisher full of good
Check my bank account got racks on racks
Look around fool got a wall full of plaques
Platinum and gold you gots to love that
Posted up just like a thumbtack
Better hide ya ho 'cause she bound to get snatched
H Town Texas to ATL
She got a fat ass she prolly know me well
Keep it on the low never kiss and tell
True player Cory Mo cold as hell
Shows to do got record to sell
Got a whole lotta BMI checks in the mail
If ballin' was a crime I'd be in jail
Locked up for double life like
What the hell
Got campaign going so strong
Getting brain when I'm talking on the phone
Spending money when you're runnin' this long
Real street nigga ain't no clone
We at the top where we belong
Got lean rosé patron
Smokin' on 1000 dollars worth of strong
Well the club 'bout to hear this song
We got racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
He got ain't even tryna hold back
Yeah they call me Country Grammar
My brother out the slammer
I'm crimson color painted
You can call that Alabama
I'm not from Alabama
But check out how I roll tide
He might have the same whip
But check out how I roll mine
Y'all niggas ain't no stars
Y'all only in it for the cars
The sky is your limit mayne
And mine somewhere bout Mars
I ride with them boys in the middle of the map
St Louis Detroit Chi town Nap
Down through the dirty back up through the trap
But the money don't stack man money overlap
Yeah y'all better watch it mayne right here we lock and load
Two things is for certain mayne and one thing is fa sho'
Got a house on hundred acres
I've never seen my neighbors
A chick in ATL and from Buckhead to Decatur
Now y'all better leave me alone got license for my chrome
Police on your mama phone talking bout your baby gone
Tell the truth I ain't gon' lie I got so many rides
Don't know which one I'ma drive f**k it I'm just gone fly
Everybody wanna hate because I'm on
Blowing head back bottles by the zone
Twista finna get up on the track
And spit it the way I do simply because I like this song
When I step up out the Maserati car
Gotta pull it pull it pull it pull it from the jar
Then I blow I'ma close out the par
Wit' some killers and everybody know who we are
Get money gang stepping through the door Chicago cago cago
Anybody wanna get into it come on
And do it for security we gon' make a pit a flow
Might as well get it off yo chest
While everybody got ammunition on deck
I don't see them T-Dum-Izzle as a threat
Cause I got racks on racks on racks
Oh Twista I see your future finna shoot ya
I salute you if you could get at the general in military
Racks and racks and tracks and stacks and gats
I could destroy an entire village when I kill and bury
'Cause I manipulate your molecular structure
Other words fill 'em up wit' holes
If you try to give it to me at the door
I just thought I had to let you know
I got single bitches tryin' married bitches lyin'
I take 'em to the crib and leave our future in a condom
I wake up fresher than these motherf**kers as is
Look inside my closet
That shit look like it's Raks Fifth
Man that's racks on racks on racks on top of packs on top of pounds
My chains is pow on pow on pow
I'm off them trees no I ain't no owl
I'm at the altar sayin' my vows to this Benjamin Franklin pile
You buy her a house I won't buy her a vowel
You fell in love and I fell in her mouth
Then called her Dickface she call the connect
You call the connect
You call her collect I call to collect no need for a pet
If I throw this paper your bitch gon' fetch
Do it B I G
And Detroit gonna be aight as long as we got me
I'm in the hood if you wonder where I'm at
In the back of a chevy that's all black
Racks on racks I don't know how to act
Track and field with the birds I'm running em like track
Free throws of money bet you can't block
King of the club I bet you can't top
Bitch niggas hate the fact I get guap
Or the fact when the money go up it won't stop
I'm in the club tryna show 'em how to stunt
Tryna pick up what I'm throwing it prolly take em bout a month
The club underwater have em running out the front
While I'm somewhere in the back getting blowed like a blunt
No need to trip you can tell 'em that I'm cool as hell
'Cause that's the case I'm known to pack a tool as well
I'm a blood motherf**ker nothing new to tell
Got Vogues underneath the old school as well
I got lights on my wrist that'll flash like cop
Couple of foreign cars that I ride no top
Couple of wet whips that I ride like yachts
A couple of haters looking I'm knowing them niggas hot
And tell 'em that I don't give a damn
Hard as a motherf**ker tell em I was ham
Call it what you want I'ma do it for the fam
Yeah that's the type of nigga that I am
Okay I'm back off into this bitch
With a cup and it's full of that liq
Got racks ain't talking tits
Big stacks no Lego bricks
Hit a trick and fiending nigga got it
I keep that hottie just look at her body
Blew twenty bands in that king of diamonds
Sorry that's just part of my hobby
And I hear em feeling my Florida swagger
So dope shit I sold y'all copies
That ice be onto my neck and wrist
Mow anybody wanna play some hockey
I'm that nigga in fact paper tall as Shaq
Blood sweat and tears it'll be on your local Walmart rack soon
Got campaign going so strong
Getting brain when I'm talking on the phone
Spending money when you're runnin' this long
Real street nigga ain't no clone
We at the top where we belong
Got lean rosé patron
Smokin' on 1000 dollars worth of strong
Well the club 'bout to hear this song
We got racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Racks racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks