Racks (Remix) (Ft. Nelly, B.o.B, Trae The Truth, Yo Gotti, CyHi Da Prince, Dose, and Ace Hood)

[Hook: YC] Got campaign goin' so strong Gettin' brain when I'm talkin' on the phone Spendin' money when your money is long Real street niggas, ain't no clone We at the top where we belong Drink lean, Rosé, Patrón Smokin' on a thousand dollars worth strong When the club 'bout to hear this song We got racks on racks on racks (racks) Racks on racks on racks (racks) Racks on racks on racks (racks) Got racks on racks on racks Got racks on racks on racks (racks) Racks on racks on racks (racks) Racks on racks on racks (racks) Racks on racks on racks Nigga, I ain't even trynna hold back [Verse 1: YC] Still fresh, yeah, and in my Trues Iced out, okay, cool Trapped up, know I keep that tool That racks on racks so ma'fuckin' fool All around the globe, bein' on TV Everywhere you look, you see YC Hatin'-ass niggas just wishin' they were me YC, YC, YC Way too big for my ma'fuckin' 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 Spent a hundred racks, won't notice it My bank 'count, commas all over it Racks on racks on racks [Verse 2: Nelly] 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 wit' them boys in the middle of the map St. Louis, Detroit, Chi-town, Nap Down to 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 Don't lease or your mama phone talkin' 'bout "Yo' baby gone!" Tell the truth, I ain't gon' lie, I got so many rides Don't know which one I'mma drive, fuck it, I'm just gon' fly [Hook] [Verse 3: B.o.B] 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 Hussein That's why they nervous, hmmm Like I'm flyin' 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 [Verse 4: Trae The Truth] I'm in the club, tryna show 'em how to stunt (Stunt) Tryna pick up what I'm throw, it prolly take about a month (Month) The club underwater, have 'em runnin' out the front While I'm somewhere in the back, gettin' blowed like a blunt (Blunt) No need to trip, you can tell 'em that I'm cool as hell (Cool as hell) Cause it's the case I know the pack of pumas well (Pumas well) I'm a blood motherfucker, that dude'll tell (Dude'll tell) Got 47 'neath the old-school as well (School as well) I got lights on my wrist that'll flash like cop (Cops) Couple of foreign cars that I ride no top (Tops) Couple of whi-whips that I ride like yachts (Yachts) A couple of haters lookin', I'm knowin' them niggas hot (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'mma do it for the fam Yeah, that's the type of nigga that I am [Verse 5: Yo Gotti] Got bills on top of bills, scales on top of scales I'm Mr. All White, got yell' on top of yell' Got pills all on my phone, these niggas know I'm wrong Said 50 for a song, and they won't leave me 'lone Gotta front me a brick, that ain't nothin' to you Just ran through a ticket, there ain't nothin' to do Yeah, I love these streets like I love the booth Mr. Cocaine Music, 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 [Hook: YC] Got campaign goin' so strong Gettin' brain when I'm talkin' on the phone Spendin' money when your money is long Real street niggas, ain't no clone We at the top where we belong Drink lean, rose, Patron Smokin' on a thousand dollars worth strong When the club 'bout to hear this song We got racks on racks on racks (Racks) Racks on racks on racks (Racks) Racks on racks on racks (Racks) Got racks on racks on racks Got racks on racks on racks (Racks) Racks on racks on racks (Racks) Racks on racks on racks Nigga, I ain't even tryna hold back [Verse 6: CyHi The Prince] I make big plays, I got big chips Blue 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 quick 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 Baby blood with them bricks, pimp Get off a key like I can't sing Got the seven on me like big jersey Ridin' round, and this bitch dirty I'm the best, hands down They nicknamed me 6:30 [Verse 7: Dose] Got Activist in my Sprite, Benjamins in my Robins Frank Muller wit' flooded ice, but I still got my brightness 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, sick off all the 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 Corps 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 [Verse 8: Ace Hood] Okay, I'm back off into this bitch (This bitch!) Wit' a cup, and it's full of that liq' (Hot!) Got racks, ain't talkin' tits (Ew-way!) Big stacks, no Lego bricks (Woo!) Hit a trick and a fiendin' nigga got it I keep that hottie, just look at her body (Hey!) Blew twenty bands in that King of Diamonds Sorry, that's just part of my hobby (Swoop!) And I hear 'em feelin' my Florida swagger So dope, shit, I sold y'all copies That ice be onto my neck and wrist Now anybody wanna play some hockey I'm that nigga in fact (In fact), paper tall as Shaq (Oh, boy!) Blood, Sweat, and Tears, it'll be on your local Walmart rack Soon [Hook] Got campaign goin' so strong Gettin' brain when I'm talkin' on the phone Spendin' money when your money is long Real street niggas, ain't no clone We at the top where we belong Drink lean, rose, Patron Smokin' on a thousand dollars worth strong When the club 'bout to hear this song We got racks on racks on racks (Racks) Racks on racks on racks (Racks) Racks on racks on racks (Racks) Got racks on racks on racks Got racks on racks on racks (Racks) Racks on racks on racks (Racks) Racks on racks on racks Nigga, I ain't even tryna hold back