Racks On Racks - Wiz Khalifa, Young Jeezy, Bun B

Got campaign going so strong

Getting brain when I’m talking on the phone

Spending money when you’re runnin' this long

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Got lean, rosé, Patron

Smokin' on 1000 dollars worth of strong

Well, the club 'bout to hear this song

We got racks on racks on racks

Got racks on racks on racks

Racks on racks on racks

Racks on racks on racks

Ain’t even tryna hold back

Got campaign going so strong

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

Spendin' money when youre' runnin this long

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Straight lean, rosé, Patron

Smokin' on 1,000 dollars of strong

We"re in the club 'bout to hear this song

Still fresh as hell in my Trues

Iced out, okay cool

Strapped up, know I keep that tool

That racks on racks so motherfucking fool

I’m about to glow, me on TV

Everywhere you look, you see YC

Hating-ass niggas just wishing they were me

YC, YC, YC

Way too big for my my fucking 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

Spend 100 racks, won’t notice it

My bank account, commas all over it

Racks on racks on racks

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 nothing yet, bitch, this just my Friday ice

87, brick fare, yeah, I’m talking thirty racks

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

Racks on, racks off, see that blonde strip when 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 niggas, a wrap

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 who wanna fuck a young nigga

I roll one and roll another one bigger

Niggas thinkin' they sick, well, I’m sicker

Right, I’m smoke my weed and I’m a drink my liquor

Better make sure you fuck your girl right ‘fore I dick her down

I got racks on top of racks, stacks on top of stacks

Bands on top of bands, got me fuckin' her and her friends

Backwoods don’t do papers, that was just for my haters

Clap two times if you drunk

Got a bad bitch from the U. K

She do everything I say

Go crazy when she hear music

She got Grove St. on replay

Got racks you don’t understand

Money long from here to Japan

Know it good when she go no hands

Girl, you got me in a trance

Got campaign going so strong

Getting brain when I’m talking on the phone

Spending money when you’re runnin' this long

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Got lean, rosé, Patron

Smokin' on 1000 dollars worth of strong

Well, the club 'bout to hear this song

We got racks on racks on racks

Got racks on racks on racks

Racks on racks on racks

Racks on racks on racks

Ain’t even tryna hold back

Got campaign going so strong

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

Spendin' money when youre' runnin this long

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Straight lean, rosé, Patron

Smokin' on 1,000 dollars of strong

We"re in the club 'bout to hear this song

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

Blew money like six Crips

Switch gears like stick shifts

Fresh as hell, I’m Big Gipp

We buy cars, y’all flip whips

Catch us smokin' that Quik 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

Been blood with them bricks, pimp

Get off a key like I can’t sing

Got the seven on me like Vick jersey

Ridin' round, and this bitch dirty

I’m the best, hands down

They nicknamed me 6:30

And we Young Dose and YC

Redan Road, that’s my street

Ask around on the Eastside

I’m the S, h-i-t

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

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 Usain

That’s why they nervous, hmmm, like I’m flying 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

Got bales on top of bales, scales on top of scales

I’m Mr. All White, got yay on top of yay

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

Said fifty for a song, and they won’t leave me alone

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

Just ran through a ticket, that ain’t nothing to do

Yeah, I love these streets like I love the booth

Mr. Cocaine Muzik, 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 going so strong

Getting brain when I’m talking on the phone

Spending money when you’re runnin' this long

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Got lean, rosé, Patron

Smokin' on 1000 dollars worth of strong

Well, the club 'bout to hear this song

We got racks on racks on racks

Got racks on racks on racks

Racks on racks on racks

Racks on racks on racks

Ain’t even tryna hold back

Got campaign going so strong

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

Spendin' money when youre' runnin this long

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Straight lean, rosé, Patron

Smokin' on 1,000 dollars of strong

We"re in the club 'bout to hear this song

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, riding around with that reefer scent

Riding 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 joking 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

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

From X to the max in the Ac, if I ain’t strapped, then the gat’s 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 Tahoes

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 the chips, you be worried about the lays

Got Actavis in my Sprite, Benjamins in my Robins

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

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, cigar full of 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 Club 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

Catch me in the city with the trunk on crack

Top dropped down, black on black

Fistful of wood, Swisher full of 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 record 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 going so strong

Getting brain when I’m talking on the phone

Spending money when you’re runnin' this long

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Got lean, rosé, Patron

Smokin' on 1000 dollars worth of strong

Well, the club 'bout to hear this song

We got racks on racks on racks

Got racks on racks on racks

Racks on racks on racks

Racks on racks on racks

Ain’t even tryna hold back

Got campaign going so strong

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

Spendin' money when youre' runnin this long

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Straight lean, rosé, Patron

Smokin' on 1,000 dollars of strong

We"re in the club 'bout to hear this song

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 with them boys in the middle of the map

St. Louis, Detroit, Chi-town, Nap

Down through 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

Police on your mama phone, talking bout your 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 gone fly

Everybody wanna hate because I’m on

Blowing 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 stepping through the door, Chi-cago, cago, cago

Anybody wanna get into it, come on

And do it, for security, we gon' make a pit a flow

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 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

(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 I ain’t no owl

I’m at the altar sayin' my vows, to this Benjamin Franklin pile

You buy her a house, I won’t buy her a vowel

You fell in love and I fell in her mouth

Then called her Dickface, she call the connect

You call her collect, I call to collect, no need for a pet

If I throw this paper, your bitch gon' fetch

Do it, B-i-g

And Detroit gonna be aight as long as we got me

I’m in the hood if you wonder where I’m at

In the back of a Chevy that’s all black

Racks on racks, I don’t know how to act

Track and field with the birds, I’m running em like track

Free throws of money, bet you can’t block

King of the club, I bet you can’t top

Bitch niggas hate the fact I get guap

Or the fact when the money go up, it won’t stop

I’m in the club, tryna show ‘em how to stunt

Tryna pick up what I’m throwing, it prolly take em bout a month

The club underwater, have em running out the front

While I’m somewhere in the back, getting blowed like a blunt

No need to trip, you can tell em that I’m cool as hell

‘Cause that’s the case I’m known to pack a tool as well

I’m a blood motherfucker, nothing new to tell

Got Vogues underneath the old-school as well

I got lights on my wrist that’ll flash like cop

Couple of foreign cars that I ride, no top

Couple of wet whips that I ride like yachts

A couple of haters looking, I’m knowing them niggas 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

Okay, I’m back off into this bitch

With a cup, and it’s full of that liq

Got racks, ain’t talking tits

Big stacks, no Lego bricks

Hit a trick and fiending nigga got it

I keep that hottie, just look at her body

Blew twenty bands in that King of Diamonds

Sorry, that’s just part of my hobby

And I hear em feeling my Florida swagger

So dope, shit, I sold y’all copies

That ice be onto my neck and wrist

Mow anybody wanna play some hockey

I’m that nigga in fact, paper tall as Shaq

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

Got campaign going so strong

Getting brain when I’m talking on the phone

Spending money when you’re runnin' this long

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Got lean, rosé, Patron

Smokin' on 1000 dollars worth of strong

Well, the club 'bout to hear this song

We got racks on racks on racks

Got racks on racks on racks

Racks on racks on racks

Racks on racks on racks

Ain’t even tryna hold back

Got campaign going so strong

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

Spendin' money when youre' runnin this long

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

We at the top where we belong

Straight lean, rosé, Patron

Smokin' on 1,000 dollars of strong

We"re in the club 'bout to hear this song