Racks, Racks, Racks. Lyrics

Why we fighting, all your brothers fucking love me

You can fight me, all your hoes still tryna fuck me

Don't want no commitment unless I make her eggs runny

Get a couple racks wet, I ain't talking money

Uh, uh

Every day is cuffing season

Nah, every day is fucking season

You gon' suck my dick for no fucking reason

You gon' make me nut, sound like Morgan Freeman

All this money on me feeling like I'm gonna come

All this money on me feeling like I'm number one

All these bitches want me, and they want my son

Gonna put some hot sauce in the condom

I got racks, I got racks, I got racks

You got dead homies, and I got packs

I got racks, I got racks, I got racks,

Let the choppa eat em up like some snacks

Let the choppa eat

Fucking on a Brit, imma help her brush her teeth

Thinking that she woke her parents up when she screamed

Fuck, now I gotta fuck her whole team

Gotta go broke

Did too much coke

Now my dick broke

Ooooh, I have so many issues, yeah

All this money on me feeling like I'm gonna come

All this money on me feeling like I'm number one

All these bitches want me, and they want my son

Gonna put some hot sauce in the condom

I got racks, I got racks, I got racks

You got dead homies, and I got packs

I got racks, I got racks, I got racks,

Let the choppa eat em up like some snacks

I got racks, I got racks, I got racks

You got dead homies, and I got packs

I got racks, I got racks, I got racks,

Let the choppa eat em up like some snacks

Let the choppa eat em up like some snacks