YC - Racks Feat. Young Jeezy, Wiz Khalifa, Waka Flocka, CyHi Da Prynce, Bun B, Twista, Dose, B.o.B, Big Sean, Cory Mo, Cory Gunz, Nelly, Trae Tha Truth, Wale, And Yo... | Текст песни

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• YC
• Racks Feat. Young Jeezy, Wiz Khalifa, Waka Flocka, CyHi Da Prynce, Bun B, Twista, Dose, B.o.B, Big Sean, Cory Mo, Cory Gunz, Nelly, Trae Tha Truth, Wale, And Yo...

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

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

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

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
lights

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 thin

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