c0untin dem racks ft. Yung Pinga Lyrics

Yo, motherfuckers, we're fucking back

It's been a long year, maybe two

It's been a hiatus for the Yung Pinga

But we're fucking back, boys

We're motherfucking back

You know, we got Grismer on the beat, bro

We got motherfucking Grismer on the fucking beat

About to go hard, about to make me cum, about to make me moist

You know who else is on the beat

Mario. Take it away, brother

You know what they say, all toasters toast toast

I'm in love with them drugs

I take every day off going to clubs

I drive all day, all night

Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah, we going away

Oh, yeah, we going away

Yeah, yeah, yeah, we going away

To where

Where we're going

Nah

We ain't going to Bel-Air

We ain't going to Bel-Air no more

We going to South Central

South Central, baby

South Central's where it's at

About to get some corn dogs till I'm out

About to shoot them a cup, shoot them a cup

Hey, you got them burgers, yeah

I got them hamburgers we put together, yeah

Oh, wait, the same thing, uh-uh

Got to get some corn dogs

About to get some mac and cheese

About to get that bacon

You thought I forgot, huh

I'm in love with the bacon

And I'm in love with your body

About to put them together

About to make some sweet delights

Oh, yeah

About to make sweet love to you, baby

About to make sweet love to you more

About to make sweet love to the baby

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I'll make them sloppy joes

They really good

About to shove it in your mouth

Then make you coom

They're going to make you coom

Mama

Mama Luigi

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha

You're a little baby mama

You're my baby's mama

I'm your baby's mama

Baby's father's baby's mama

Yeah, yeah

We're about to have a play date

We're about to have a Sunday

Sundays are free

Four, four, four

Four, four, four, yeah

They raise the prices

No more two for fours

At Jack in the Crack

It's four for four now

Yeah, yeah

It's four for four now

Four for four

At Jack in the Crack

What the fuck

But yeah

You know we back in it

Stay grinding, stay hustling

We counting them racks, boy

We counting them up

I'll see y'all next year

Peace out, bitches

Whopper, whopper, whopper, whopper

Junior double, triple whopper

Flame grill taste with perfect toppers

I rule this day

Lettuce, mayo, purple ketchup

It's okay if I don't want that

If Costco blow off, they can't whopper any whopper my way

You, you, you

Season the day

MBA

I need your grace

You're broke