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racks (wiz khailfa remix) - yc lyrics

[intro: yc]
(yc!) whatchu got? racks on racks on racks
(he got) racks on racks on racks, (we got) racks on racks on raaacks (leh’go!)
ayy! i got, racks on racks on racks
(she got) racks on racks on racks, (they got) racks on racks on racks

[hook: yc]
got campaign goin’ so strong, gettin’ brain while i’m talkin on the phone
spend money when ya money gets long, real street n-gga, ain’t no clone
we at the top where we belong, sip lean, rosé, patron
smokin on thousand dollar worth of strong, when the club ’bout to hear this soooong (whatchu got?)
we got racks on racks on racks (racks), racks on racks on racks (racks)
racks on racks on racks (racks), got racks on racks on raaaaacks
got racks on racks on racks (racks), racks on racks on racks (racks)
racks on racks on racks (racks), n-gga ain’t even tryna hold baaaack

[yc]
got a car lot in my garage, got a condo down in the stars
i’m geaked up off them bars, got a car i don’t even gotta park
no keys push b-tton start, she ain’t a dime i won’t get hard
got hoes that need a green card, say i’m a dawg but i don’t even gotta bark
got swag that bite like sharks, one hit i’mma knock it out the park
trap beatin’ so godd-mn hard, got kush, got lean, got barre
got remix hard as scale, got bricks don’t need no scale
i’m plugged in with the mail, i’m part of the cartel
got rerock ain’t no cling, 6 two hundred for a nin
then f-ck it all up on jeans, i’mma true religion fiend
got bands in the pockets of my jeans, need a kickstand way i lean
promethazine fiend, stamped on sprite and lean

[hook]

[wiz khalifa]
uh; racks on, racks off, see that blonde stripper, my hat’s off
lookin at my rollie, ’bout thirty grand what that cost
smoke like i’m in cali, f-ck takin flight, i blast off
n-ggas talkin tattoos, we should have a tat-off
got racks on racks on racks… naps on naps on naps
just made a mil, count another mil, 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 mo’, i told you, n-gga it’s a wrap
oooh! you claim you a dog, my nig, i’m the vet
we cain’t even talk ‘less you cut the check – i guess that’s why all of these n-ggas get bad
they said, “f-ck a young n-gga! f-ck a young n-gga!”
i know it’s some girls in the crowd right now who wanna f-ck a young n-gga – yeah!
i roll one and roll another one bigger
n-ggas thinkin they sick, well, i’m sicker
i’mma smoke, my weed and i’ma drink, my liquor
better make, sure you f-ck ya girl right ‘fore i d-ck her, down

[hook]

[yc]
y’all know i keep them racks, i stay counting them stacks
ya girl won’t leave me lone, wanna f-ck now she attaaaached
flow hot don’t need no match, sell work don’t pay no tax
i’m turnt up to the max, don’t even know how to relaaaax
i drank so much that lean, had to wake up on a bean
racks all in my jeans, man bustin’ out the seeeeams
got kush all in my lungs, get high like cheech and chong
800 a zone i ain’t blowin’ unless it stroooong
catch h-ll on my iphone, catch mine and then i’m gone
the girl won’t leave, i can not take her hoooome
i’m gone on them bars, b-tch i’m not a star
i’m driving foreign cars, strapped up no bodyguaaaards

[hook]

[outro: yc]
(yc!) racks on racks on racks
racks on racks on racks, racks on racks on raaacks
racks on racks on racks
racks on racks on racks, racks on racks on raaacks

- yc lyrics

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