Racks on Racks (Super Remix)

Got campaign going so strong
Getting brain while I'm talking on the phone
Spend money when your money this long
Real street nigga, ain't no clowns
We at the top where we belong
Drank lean, Rosé, Patrón
Smoking all thousand dollar herb strong
When the club 'bout to hear this song
Got racks on racks on racks, racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks, got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks, racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks, nigga ain't even tryna hold back

Still fresh as hell in my Trues
Iced out, okay cool
Trapped up, know I keep that tool
With the racks on racks, a motherfucking fool
All around the globe, even on TV
Anywhere you look, you see YC
Hating ass niggas just wishing they were me
YC, YC, YC
Racks too big for my motherfucking jeans
I'm so fly, I don't even got wings
I reload, just blame it on the green
You're cut up, got lean on lean
That shoe box shit, over with
Spend a hundred racks, won't notice it
My bank account, commas all over it
Racks on racks on racks

Youngest Fisk convertible
And how is it a hard top?
Bitch, I hit one button, my roof open like a hotspot
Make me throw my diamonds up
Bitch, my life was hard now
Had so much kush and Cîroc
Bitch, I think my heart stopped
Every night's the 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 30 racks
Bubba sold his Honda's, where the fuck my 20s at?

Racks on, racks off
See that blonde strip with my hat's off
Looking at my Rollie, 'bout 30 grand what that cost
Smoke like I'm in Cali
Fuck taking flight, I blast off
Niggas talking 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 more, I told you niggas it's a wrap
Ooh, you claim you a dog, my nigga, I'm the best
We can't even talk 'less you cut the check
I guess that's why all these niggas get mad
They said fuck a young nigga, fuck a young nigga
I know it's some girls in the crowd right
Now who wanna fuck a young nigga, yeah
I roll one and roll another one bigger
Niggas thinking they sick, well, I'm sicker
I'ma smoke my weed and I'ma drink my liquor
Better make sure you fuck your girl right 'fore I dick her
Damn, bitch

I got racks on top of racks, stacks on top of stacks
Bands on top of bands, got me fucking her and her friends
Bad boys don't do papers, double shots 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 my music, she got "Growth" shit on replay
Got racks, you don't understand, money long from here to Japan
Do it good when she go no hands, girl, you got me in a trance

Got campaign going so strong
Getting brain while I'm talking on the phone
Spend money when your money this long
Real street nigga, ain't no clowns
We at the top where we belong
Drank lean, Rosé, Patrón
Smoking all thousand dollar herb strong
When the club 'bout to hear this song
Got racks on racks on racks, racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks, got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks, racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks, nigga ain't even tryna hold back

Got racks on racks on racks, y'all raps so whack on wax
Purple by the pound, that's that Flacko pack
I make big plays, I got big chips
Blew money like six Crips
Switch gears like stick shifts
Fresh as hell, I'm big Kip
We buy cars, y'all flip whips
Catch you smoking that QuikTrip
Bitch pimp, that's a handspring
I like to call that a quick flip
Pull triggers like hamstrings
Boy, I'm doing my damn thing
Been plugged with them bricks
Pimp get off a key like I can't sing
Got a 7 on me like Vick jersey
Riding 'round in this bitch dirty
I'm the best, hands down, they nicknamed me 6:30
I'm with Young Dolph's in YC
Ridin' that road, that's my street
Ask around on the east side, I'm the S-H-I-T

Bun B, I'm underground king
In the candy-painted car, I'm swang
With the top all dropped and the trunk on pop
Boy, you can't tell me a damn thing
Fifth wheel on the back just hang
Hit corners, hit licks, hit stains
With the grill in the front, wood wheel in the blunt
Showing neon lights in my bang
Yeah, I rep that P.A.T
100, 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 clack
Try to jack and I will attack
It's a fact that I ain't giving up my stack like that

Call me Bobby Ray but it's not two names
Flying through the city, all black, Bruce Wayne
Nah, not bombs over Baghdad
But on the track you can call me Hussein
That's why they nervous
Like I'm flying on a plane with a serpent
Man, I'm fly, y'all just turbulence
Exit row, emergency
As a kid I was struck by lightning
It's no wonder I'm electrifying
Fuck a brainstorm
I'll fuck around and cause a power outage
And it ain't no rivals
If there was, there'd be no survivors
But just give me an hour
I'll let it loose like an isosour

Got bales on top of bales, scales on top of scales
I'm Mr. All White, got yayo on top of yayo
Got plugs all on my phone, these niggas know I'm on
Said 50 for a song, and they won't leave me 'lone
Gotta front me a brick, that ain't nothing 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 Music, I'm a hundred 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 while I'm talking on the phone
Spend money when your money this long
Real street nigga, ain't no clowns
We at the top where we belong
Drank lean, Rosé, Patrón
Smoking all thousand dollar herb strong
When the club 'bout to hear this song
Got racks on racks on racks, racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks, got racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on racks, racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks, nigga ain't even tryna hold back

They call me Country Grammar
Y'all niggas ain't no stars
Y'all only in it for the cars
The sky is your limit mane
And mine's somewhere by Mars
I ride with the boys in the middle of the map
St. Louis, Detroit, Chi-Town, Nav
Down through the dirty, back up through the trap
Where the money don't stack, man, money overlap

Yea, y'all better watch it mane
'Round here we're lock and load
Two things is for certain mane
And one thing is fo' sho'
Got a house on hundred acres
I've never seen my neighbors
A chick in ATL
From from Buckhead to Decatur
Y'all better leave me alone
Got license for my chrome
Police on your mama phone
Talkin' 'bout "Yo baby gone"
To tell the truth I ain't gon' lie
I got so many rides
Don't know which one I'mma drive
Fuck it I'm just gon' fly

Everybody wanna hate because I'm on
Blowin' head back, 'bout to buy 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 up, pull up, pull up, pull up, pull up on a job
Then I flow, all my clothes up to par
With some killers and everybody know who we are
Get money gang steppin' through the door
Chicago, Chicago, Chicago, Chicago
Anybody wanna get into it, come on and do it
Fuck security, we gon' make 'em feel the flow
Might as well get it off your chest
While everybody got ammunition on deck
I don't see them niggas as a threat
'Cause I got racks on racks on racks
Twista, YC, and Future finna shoot ya
I salute ya if you could get it, the general in my 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 with holes
If you try to get between me and the dough
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 the condo
I wake up fresher than these motherfuckers' asses
Look inside my closet, that shit look like it's racks fit
Man that's racks on racks on racks
On top of packs, on top of pounds
My chains is pile on pile on pile
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 dick face, she called her connect
You called her collect, I called her collect
No need for a pet, if I throw this paper, your bitch gon' fetch
Do it, B-I-G
And Detroit gon' be aight as long as we got me
I do it

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
Trapped in the field with the birds, I'm runnin' '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 throw, it'll probably take 'em 'bout a month
The club underwater, have 'em runnin' out the front
While I'm somewhere in the back gettin' blowed like a blunt
No need to trip, you can tell 'em that I'm cool as hell
Just in case I'm known to pack a tool as well
I'm a thug motherfucker, nothin' new to tell
Got foes underneath the old school as well
Plus I got lights on my wrist that'll flash like cops
Couple of foreign cars that I ride, no tops
Couple of whip whips that I ride like yachts
Couple of haters lookin', I'm knowin' them niggas hot
You can tell 'em that I don't give a damn
Hard as a motherfucker, tell 'em I was ham
Call it what you want, I'mma 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 liquor
I got rocks, ain't talkin' tits
Big stacks, no Lego bricks
It ain't trickin' if any 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 stealin' my flow
The swag is so dope, shoulda sold y'all copies
That ice be on to my neck and wrist
Now 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