Lyrics:

YC
What you got (racks on racks on racks)
He got (racks on racks on racks)
We got (racks on racks on raaaacks)
Leh go
I got (I got racks on racks on racks)
She got (racks on racks on racks)
They got (racks on racks on racks)

Got Campaign going so strong
Getting brain while I'm talking on da phone
Spend money when ya money's long
Real street niggas ain't no clone
We at da top where we belong
Drank lean, Rozay, Patron
Smoking on 1000 dollas worth of strong
When da club bout to hear dis sooong

Got racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks
Got racks on racks on raaaacks

Got racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks
Niggas hate me faalll baaacckk

YC
Gotta car lot in my garage, gotta condo down near the stars
I'm geeked up off dem bars, gotta car I ain't even gotta park
No key push button start, she ain't a dime I won't get hard
Got hoes dat need a green card, say I'm a dogg but I don't even bark
Got 'em biting his swag like sharks, when I hit it Ima knock it out the park
Trap beat so got damn hard, got kush got lean got bar
That RE RE hard to scale, got bricks don't need no scale
I'm plugged in with the mail, I'm part of the cartel
That ReRock ain't no clean, 62 hundred for a Neen
Said fuck it all up on jeans, I'm a True Religion fiend
Got bands in the pockets of my jeans, need a kickstand way I lean
Promethazine fiend, stamped on Sprite and lean

Future
No choice boy I forced out sports, to go and cop some ice
Designer on my mojo, I live in the spotlight
Real street nigga ain't no flaw, Yung Future gotta keep dat raw
My swag I gave to you niggas, Ima need me a round of applause
Bravo (Bravo) Bravo (Bravo) Bravo/ BRAVO BRAVO
Gotta 100,000 dollars worth of clothes, I'm froze (I'm froze) I'm cold
I keep me a big bank roll, I ain't tricking off on these hoes
These hoes bringing me they soul, I will never sell my soul
Cash out on all these cars, these foreign (foreign) broads
Gotta nigga living in the stars, I'm on my way to Mars
Got Keyshia, Pam and Nicki, they all wanna do a Minaj
A.1., Free Band, free Vans, we ain't never gotta got damn flarge

YC
Gotta know I keep dem racks, I stay counting them stacks
Dem girls won't leave me alone, one fuck now she attaaaached
Flow hot don't need no match, sell work don't pay no tax
I'm turned up to the max, don't even know how to relaaaax
I drink so much damn lean, had to wake up on a bean
Got racks off in my jeans, man busting out the seams
Got kush all in my lungs, get high like Cheech and Chong
Eight-hundred a zone, ain't blowing it less it's strooong
She hate on my iPhone, catch mine and then I'm gone
This girl won't leave me alone, I can not take her hoooome
I'm gone off them bars, bitch I'm not a star
I'm driving foreign cars, strapped up no bodyguuaaaard

Racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on raaaacks

Racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on racks
Racks on racks on raaaacks