We ain’t playin', got 100 racks (wit me, wit me, wit me, wit me) In the van got 100 gat (wit me, wit me, wit me, wit me) Streets (wit me, wit me, wit me, wit me) She's (wit me, wit me, wit me, wit me) Strong (wit me, wit me, wit me, wit me) Gas (wit me,

Did some numbers then I went and copped a Porsche I brought them bottles on bottles I fuck with models on models I'll take that bitch with molly I got the racks on racks Campaign, campaign, campaign, campaign, campaign Check out my campaign, campaign,

Chyah, chyah I got fast cars, bad bitches and designer clothes (chyah, chyah) Couple thousand on my wrist and my neck is on froze (Lil Pump) Spanish bitches butt naked and they twerkin' on the stove (chyah, chyah, chyah) Too much racks in my pocket that

Yeah, Southside I go nuts on Southside Beats Super Bowl ring, we ballin' hard, we won the championship Everybody got somethin' to say when I ain't even ask 'em shit Bunny rabbit broke, take a brick and do a magic trick A hundred racks a show, get on the

We ran them racks up in the basement, we ain't have no cable Buy every bando on the dead end, we ain't got no neighbors Pulled up sippin' on drank (Drank) Told 'em that I quit but I can't (I can't) I just ran through a whole pint (Whole pint) Add a whole

(And I'm never coming back) I'm running across the tracks, Oh, I'm running across the tracks, Pulling the blindfolds back All we did in life We're gonna escape this trap Gotta get a life (I fall behind, I fall behind) And every leg that I have to break

I'm gonna dance on broken glass Ey, on broken glass And I'm gonna make that ceiling crash (uh) That ceiling crash So what? Still got knives in my back So what? So I'm tied to the tracks And here I go, here I go (Ooh, ooh, ooh) yeah here I go, here I go

Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang!) Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang Spend ten racks on a new chain My bitch love do cocaine, ooh I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name I can't buy a bitch no wedding ring Rather go and buy Balmains

Oh, fuck around and order more Oh, fuck around and order more, money Oh, baby we gon' order more, money Gon' throw it back, 'cause I got racks on the menu You ain't even gotta ask shawty, cash on the menu The way you drop and shake it fast, need that ass

Runaway baby like a runaway train Runaway and never look back Like a train comin' off the tracks Well, I sold my guitar for a diamond ring Yeah the preacher's daughter's got a thing for me With all of our stuff in a pick up truck Yeah we're headed out