Chris Young

Chris Young - Racks (Remix)

rate me

(feat. Wiz Khalifa)

[Chorus]

Got campaign going so strong

Getting brain while I’m talking on the phone

Spend money when ya moneys this long

Real street niggas ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Spread lean rozay patrone

Smoking on thousand dollar worth of strong

When the club outta here its on

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 hating me ain’t even tryna hold back

Got a crawl outta 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 button start

She ain’t a dime I won’t get hard

Got hoes that need a green card

Say I’ma dawg but I don’t even gotta bark

Got swag that bite like sharks

One hit I’ma knock it out the park

Trap beating so goddamn 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 fuck it all up on jeans

I’ma true religion fiend’

Got bands in the pockets of my jeans

Need a kickstand way I lean

Promethazine fiend

Stamped on sprite and lean

[Chorus]

[Wiz Khalifa]

Racks on, racks off

See that blonde strip when my hats off

Looking at my rollie, bout 30 grams what that cost,

Smoke like I’m in Cali, fuck, take a flight, I’ll blast off,

Niggas talkin tattoos, 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 them it was a wrap

Now my life ain't my life no more I told you niggas its a wrap, eww

You claim you a dog, my nigga, I’m the vet

We can’t even talk unless you cut the check,

I guess that's why all these niggas get mad

They say fuck a young nigga, fuck a young nigga,

I know there's some girls in the crowd right now who wanna fuck a young nigga, ya

I roll one and roll another one bigger, niggas thinking they sick well I’m sicker,

ima smoke my weed, and ima drink my liquor

Better make sure you fuck your girl right before I dick her... down,

[Chorus]

Y’all know I keep them racks

I stay counting them stacks

Ya girl won’t leave me lone

Wanna fuck now she attached

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 relax

I drank so much that lean

Had to wake up on a bean

Got racks all in my jeans

Man busting out the seams

Got kush all in my lungs

Get High like cheech and chong

800 a zone I ain’t blowin unless it strong

Catch hell on my iphone

Catch mine and then I’m gone

The girl won’t leave

I can not take her home

I’m gone on them bars

bitch I’m not a star

I’m driving foreign cars

Strapped up no bodyguards

Get this song at:  amazon.com  sheetmusicplus.com

Share your thoughts

0 Comments found