Yc - Racks On Racks (Remix) lyrics

rate me

(Feat. Young Jeezy, Wiz Khalifa, Waka Flocka Flame, Cyhi The Prynce, Bun B, B.o.B, Dose, Wale, Cory Gunz, Yo Gotti, Cory Mo, Nelly, Twista, Trae Tha Truth & Ace Hood)

YC!

(What you got?) Racks on racks on racks

(He got) Racks on racks on racks

(We got) Racks on racks on racks

(Leggo)

(Hey) We got racks on racks on racks

(She got) Racks on racks on racks

(They got) Racks on racks on racks

Got campaign goin' so strong

Gettin' brain when I'm talkin' on the phone

Spendin' money when your money is long

Real street niggas, ain't no clone

We at the top where we belong

Drink lean, rose, Patron

Smokin' on a thousand dollars worth strong

When 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 (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

Nigga, I ain't even tryna hold back

YC

Still fresh, yeah, and in my Trues

Iced out, okay, cool

Trapped up, know I keep that tool

That racks on racks so ma'fuckin' fool

All around the globe, bein' on TV

Everywhere you look, you see YC

Hatin'-ass niggas just wishin' they were me

YC, YC, YC

Way too big for my ma'fuckin' 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

She put it on the rack, won't notice it

My bank ‘count, commas all over it

Racks on racks on racks

Young Jeezy

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 nothin' yet, bitch, this just my Friday ice

'87, brick fare, yeah, I'm talkin' thirty racks

All I sold is hundos, where the fuck my twenties at?

Wiz Khalifa

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, fuck 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, nigga, it's a wrap

Oooh, 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 “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

I roll one and roll another one bigger

Niggas thinkin' 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

Down

Waka Flocka Flame

(Flocka!)

I got racks on top of racks (Uh!), stacks on top of stacks (Uh!)

Bands on top of bands (Uh!), got me fuckin' her (Uh!) and her friends (Flocka!)

Bad boys don't do papers (Flex!), that was just for (Flex!) my haters (Clap!)

(Clap, clap, go, go, go, go, go, Flocka!) Clap two times if you druuuunk

Got a bad bitch from the U.K. (Okay!)

She do everything I say (Okay!)

Go crazy when she hear music (Grove Street!)

She got “Grove St.” on replay (Flocka!)

Got racks you don't understand (Uh-huh)

Money long from here to Japan (Uh-huh)

Know it good when she go no hands

Girl, you got me in a trance

Got campaign goin' so strong

Gettin' brain when I'm talkin' on the phone

Spendin' money when your money is long

Real street niggas, ain't no clone

We at the top where we belong

Drink lean, rose, Patron

Smokin' on a thousand dollars worth strong

When 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 (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

Nigga, I ain't even tryna hold back

Cyhi The Prynce

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

Blue money like six Crips

Switch gears like stick shifts

Fresh as hell, no Big Kipp

We buy cars, y'all flip whips

Catch us smokin' that quick 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

Baby blood with them bricks, pimp

Get off a key like I can't sing

Got the seven on me like big jersey

Ridin' round, and this bitch dirty

I'm the best, hands down

They nicknamed me 6:30

I'm wit' Young Dose and YC

Readell Road, that's my street

Ask around on the Eastside

I'm the s-h-i-t

Bun B

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

B.o.B

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 Hussein

That's why they nervous, hmmm, like I'm flyin' 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

Fuck a brainstorm, I'll fuck 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

Yo Gotti

Got bills on top of bills, scales on top of scales

I'm Mr. All White, got yell' on top of yell'

Got pills all on my phone, these niggas know I'm wrong

Said 50 for a song, and they won't leave me ‘lone

Gotta front me a brick, that ain't nothin' to you

Just ran through a ticket, there ain't nothin' to do

Yeah, I love these streets like I love the booth

Mr. Cocaine Music, 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 goin' so strong

Gettin' brain when I'm talkin' on the phone

Spendin' money when your money is long

Real street niggas, ain't no clone

We at the top where we belong

Drink lean, rose, Patron

Smokin' on a thousand dollars worth strong

When 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 (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

Nigga, I ain't even tryna hold back

Wale

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, ridin' around wit' that reefer scent, ridin' around with Ms. Reece and them

When I'm in the groove, I can freak a tune, I'm smoother than alopecia skin

I shows out, like dope when I put that flow down

Like soap when I put my clothes on, I'm jokin', 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

Cory Gunz

The tracks on snack off raps, see stacks from back of my slacks

From the X to the MACs in the Ac, if I ain't strapped, then the gats 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 tight hoes

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 chips, you be worried about the Lay's

Bitch

Dose

Got Activist in my Sprite, Benjamins in my Robins

Frank Muller wit' flooded ice, but I still got my brightness

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, sick off all the 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 Corps 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

Cory Mo

Catch me in the city with the trunk on crack

Top dropped down, black on black

Fistful of wood, twisted for the 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 records 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 goin' so strong

Gettin' brain when I'm talkin' on the phone

Spendin' money when your money is long

Real street niggas, ain't no clone

We at the top where we belong

Drink lean, rose, Patron

Smokin' on a thousand dollars worth strong

When 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 (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

Nigga, I ain't even tryna hold back

Nelly

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 wit' them boys in the middle of the map

St. Louis, Detroit, Chi-town, Nap

Down to 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

Don't lease or your mama phone talkin' 'bout “Yo' baby gone!”

Tell the truth, I ain't gon' lie, I got so many rides

Don't know which one I'ma drive, fuck it, I'm just gon' fly

Twista

Everybody wanna hate because I'm on, blowin' head back, bottles by the zone

Twista finna get up on the track and spit it the way I do simp-a-ly 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 steppin' through the do', Chi-cago, cago, cago

Anybody wanna get into it, come on and do it, for security, we gon' make ‘em pull the flo'

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 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 wit' holes

If you try to give it to me at the door, I just thought I had to let you know

Big Sean

(I bet your bitch call me Big)

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 motherfuckers 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 eye, no ow

I'm at the altar sayin' my vows to this Benjamin Franklin power

You buy her a house, I won't buy her a vowel, you fell in love, and I fell in her mouth

They called her Dickface, she called her connect

(Called her connect) You call her collect

I call to collect, no need for a pet

If I throw this paper, yo' bitch gon' fetch

(Do it!) B-i-g

And the track gon' be aight as long as we got me

(I do it)

Trae

I'm the hood if you wondered where I'm at (Where I'm at)

In the back of a Chevy that's all black (All black)

Racks on racks, I don't know how to act (Act)

Track and field with the birds, I'm runnin' ‘em like track (Track)

Free throws of money, bet you can't blind (Blind)

King of the club, I bet you can't top (Top)

Bitch niggas hate the fact I get guap (Guap)

Or the fact when the money go up, it won't stop (Boy!)

I'm in the club, tryna show ‘em how to stunt (Stunt)

Tryna pick up what I'm throw, it prolly take about a month (Month)

The club underwater, have ‘em runnin' out the front

While I'm somewhere in the back, gettin' blowed like a blunt (Blunt)

No need to trip, you can tell ‘em that I'm cool as hell (Cool as hell)

‘Cause it's the case I know the pack of pumas well (Pumas well)

I'm a blood motherfucker, that dude'll tell (Dude'll tell)

Got 47 ‘neath the old-school as well (School as well)

I got lights on my wrist that'll flash like cop (Cops)

Couple of foreign cars that I ride no top (Tops)

Couple of whi-whips that I ride like yachts (Yachts)

A couple of haters lookin', I'm knowin' them niggas hot (Hot)

And tell ‘em that I don't give a damn

Hard as a motherfucker, 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

Ace Hood

Okay, I'm back off into this bitch (This bitch!)

Wit' a cup, and it's full of that liq' (Hot!)

Got racks, ain't talkin' tits (Ew-way!)

Big stacks, no Lego bricks (Woo!)

Hit a trick and a fiendin' nigga got it

I keep that hottie, just look at her body (Hey!)

Blew twenty bands in that King of Diamonds

Sorry, that's just part of my hobby (Swoop!)

And I hear ‘em feelin' my Florida swagger, so dope, shit, I sold y'all copies

That ice be onto my neck and wrist, now anybody wanna play some hockey

I'm that nigga in fact (In fact), paper tall as Shaq (Oh, boy!)

Blood, Sweat, and Tears, it'll be on your local Walmart rack

Soon

Got campaign goin' so strong

Gettin' brain when I'm talkin' on the phone

Spendin' money when your money is long

Real street niggas, ain't no clone

We at the top where we belong

Drink lean, rose, Patron

Smokin' on a thousand dollars worth strong

When 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 (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

Nigga, I ain't even tryna hold back

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