| Rack racin, I’m sack chasin' for the guallo
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| And you ain’t talkin' shit if you ain’t talkin' 'bout a dollar
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| My money never foldin', rubba band holdin'
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| Everything together got my pockets on swollen
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| Rack racin, I’m sack chasin' for the guallo
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| And you ain’t talkin' shit if you ain’t talkin' 'bout a dollar
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| My money never foldin', rubba band holdin'
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| Everything together got my pockets on swollen
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| Cash rules everything around me
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| I got old money so they cannot help but crown me
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| I been getting bread since jerry curls and niggas wearing beepers
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| Money is everything, wanna learn I’ma teach ya
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| Old school Chevy with the peanut butter seats
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| Blood diamonds on my neck, brand new Jordan’s on my feet
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| And I keep that thing clocked just in case you got some static
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| Need some beef in your diet, I’ma let you niggas have it
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| I’m so focused on that sack from this rabbit or this crack
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| More commas for them dollar signs, tunnel vision racks
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| Where I’m from being broke you get lost in the sauce
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| Flougin niggas get exposed out here wanna be a boss
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| And motherfuck a friend, only friend is Ben
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| He can buy me what I want, I protect him with the twins
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| Extendo loaded clips, tryna rob you get killed
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| I got acrobatic dough like a pancake make it flip bitch
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| Rack racin, I’m sack chasin' for the guallo
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| And you ain’t talkin' shit if you ain’t talkin' 'bout a dollar
|
| My money never foldin', rubba band holdin'
|
| Everything together got my pockets on swollen
|
| Rack racin, I’m sack chasin' for the guallo
|
| And you ain’t talkin' shit if you ain’t talkin' 'bout a dollar
|
| My money never foldin', rubba band holdin'
|
| Everything together got my pockets on swollen
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| Anytime I do it mane they know its a movie
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| Loud and ciroc, bad bitches in Jacuzzi’s
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| Your only living once so I ball out like Kemo
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| You fishes out here lost, tryna find you Nemo
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| Diamonds on my wrist shine like a Vegas Strip
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| If you ain’t from my hood, pull up on you make you dip
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| See the way I was built, money first and pussy last
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| If a nigga ever cross, cut him off ain’t no pass
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| Ain’t no givin', ain’t no leeway, real nigga shit
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| All you rattin' ass niggas, y’all can catch a full clip
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| All these pussy niggas hatin' cause the money that I get
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| Rim size 26, taking selfies with your bitch
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| Every nigga with my clique, he is playing with a brick
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| She say money make her cum, presidential suites and flicks
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| Only thing she want is dick, always swallow never spit
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| Counting bread, getting head, I’m addicted to this shit mane
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| Rack racin, I’m sack chasin' for the guallo
|
| And you ain’t talkin' shit if you ain’t talkin' 'bout a dollar
|
| My money never foldin', rubba band holdin'
|
| Everything together got my pockets on swollen
|
| Rack racin, I’m sack chasin' for the guallo
|
| And you ain’t talkin' shit if you ain’t talkin' 'bout a dollar
|
| My money never foldin', rubba band holdin'
|
| Everything together got my pockets on swollen |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Rack Racin , by - Project Pat. Song from the album Pistol & A Scale, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп