Run Up Them Racks lyrics

[Hook]
Woah, huh, run up them racks
Can't fumble the sack, no, huh
I got to get it, I’m running them digits
Lil’ b*tches can play with that check, no
I pull up, no simpin, like deal with the business
Gucci my tennis, I thumb through them Benjis
Lil’ b*tch I get bread every minute woah

[Verse 1]
Louie belt holdin’ my britches
Pleasant, she checkin’ my business, yeah, yeah
Playin’ ‘em round like a dentist
Don’t get around until I’m finished, yeah, yeah
We used to trap in them Civics
Servin’ them jays and I’m spendin’
Now we pull up in them Benzes
Foreigns and sh*t, it’s expensive
See RetcH done did it, whoa
Made a plate down a metal bar
For a half of John, n*gga count it up
Foreign thotty yeah she bad as f*ck
I won’t f*ck her ‘cause she bad as f*ck
Brand new pus*y, I can't pass it up
Purple drink, no, I can’t pass it up
I got back to expeditions, with no expectations
In the situations, yeah
I would like some fornication, how that be for conversation
I can't f*ck her cause she basic, I might f*ck her make her famous
I be stylin’ in the latest
Louie, Fendi, Ferragamo
Diamond gavel on the poncho
[?]
On point wherever I go
Shooter with me - he gonna follow, yeah, yeah
If you don’t play with that heat
Doggy don't play in these streets, yeah, yeah
We don’t do well with defeat
n*gga we playin’ for keeps, gang, gang
I had to turn to a beast
Locked in the “stu” for some weeks
Hammer was right in my reach
b*tch, you was all on my phone
But I’m on a roll like its beef, no, whoa, whoa, ha
[Hook]
Woah, huh, run up them racks
Can't fumble the sack, no, huh
I got to get it, I’m running them digits
Lil’ b*tches can play with that check, no
I pull up, no simpin, like deal with the business
Gucci my tennis, I thumb through them Benjis
Lil’ b*tch I get bread - admit it - woah

[Verse 2]
Young n*gga play with them racks
I got them racks it’s a fact, yeah, yeah
I got some [?]
Some lil’ thots in the back, yeah yeah
If you run off with that pack
Just know you cannot come back, yeah, yeah
I’m sippin’ red in the back
My lil’ b*tch, she a brat, whoa, whoa
How he got dough for that liberty b*tch
Man I swear I won’t f*ck her again
I told her come over, she told me
She just wanna watch while I f*ck on her friend
I f*cked up and poured up this drink
In a 32 ounce and I swear it won’t end
Can’t be no baller If you don’t do right for your family
[?]
Swear she so better than this time I f*ck her
I’m gonna f*ck her and never again
I fly across the worldand them people they see me
They love me, they takin’ my pic
These b*tches is open, they just like a magazine
Browsing and takin my pick
I told them we all could be rollin'’ in millions
If n*gga just stick to the script, huh
[Hook]
Woah, huh, run up them racks
Can't fumble the set, no, huh
I got to get it, I’m running them digits
Lil’ b*tches can play with that check, no
I pull up, no simpin, like deal with the business
Gucci my tennis, I thumb through them Benjis
Lil’ b*tch I get bread - admit it - woah