YC Ft. Future - - Racks | Текст песни

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• YC Ft. Future -
• Racks

Chorus
Got campaign going so strong
Getting brain while I’m talking on the phone
Spend money when ya moneys this long
Real street niccas 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
nicca hating me ain’t even tryna hold back

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 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 !! 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

(Future)
No choice by force I sport
Then go and cop some ice
Designer on my mojo
I live in the spotlight
Real street nicca ain’t no flaw
Young future gotta keep that raw
That swag I gave you niccas
I’ma need me a round of ‘plause
(Bravo Bravo Bravo Bravo Bravo Bravo Bravo)
Got a hundred thousand dollars worth of clothes
Im froze I’m froze I’m cold
I keep me a big bank roll
I ain’t trickin off on these hoes

These hoes bringin’ me they soul
I will never sell my soul
Cashed out on all the cars
These foreign foreign broads
Got a nicca living in the stars
I’m on my way to mars
Got Keisha, Pam, and Nikki
They all wanna do a Minaj
Ay one freeband freeband
We ain’t ever got a god damn large

Chorus

Y’all know I keep them racks
I stay counting them stacks
Ya girl won’t leave me lone
Wanna !! 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 & 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
!! I’m not a star
I’m driving foreign cars
Strapped up no bodyguards

Chrous

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