ГлавнаяИсполнители╞ ►╡ YC Feat. Nelly, B.o.B., Trae The Truth, Yo Gotti, Cyhi Da Prynce, Dose Ace HoodRacks
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Racks


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╞ ►╡ YC Feat. Nelly, B.o.B., Trae The Truth, Yo Go


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[YC]
 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

 [Chorus: YC]
 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
 [bad word]  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 [bad word]  fool
 All around the globe, bein’ on TV
 Everywhere you look, you see YC
 Hatin’ [bad word] niggas just wishin’ they were me
 YC, YC, YC
 Way too big for my ma [bad word]  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 [bad word]  over with
 She put it on the rack, won’t notice it
 My bank ‘count, commas all over it
 Racks on racks on racks

 [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
 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, [bad word] it, I’m just gon’ fly

 [Chorus: YC]
 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
 [bad word]  I ain’t even tryna hold back

 [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
 [bad word] a brainstorm, I’ll [bad word] 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

 [Trae The Truth]
 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 nee

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