letra de racks on buss - family emergency
[intro]
yeah, whoa
when i wake up
i can’t wait to stain some’
oppas talkin down
’cause i’m still why they stay up
now when i catch his dumbass lackin’
it’s gon’ pay off
under pressure
[hook]
and yea i’m talkin h-lla sh-t
but where the f-ck is this sh-t comin from?
i was greenin’ out before i had turned 21 (fa-fa-fa-family emergency)
i was hittin’ l!cks when i ain’t even want nun’
i smoke designer drugs, i get ’em in my lungs (yea)
[chorus]
now- now i stay countin’ up these bucks
m-m-my racks on buss
a-and yo shawty, she wan’ f-ck (yea, she wan’ f-ck)
that sh-t must su-suck (that sh-t must suck)
and your homeboy got no bands (yea)
like-like, he’s yo mans?
’cause he talkin’ h-lla sh-t, yea (talk-talk-, he talkin’ down)
we might throw hands
but i stay strapped with a glock though
30’s in my wock, ho
i-i sip codeine
’cause i don’t wanna f-ckin’ talk, ho (o-o)
rockin’ red on soles, that’s why i keep the socks low (yea)
sierrasix, the way i keep my sh-t on lock though
[verse]
pull out the choppa, i know you won’t shoot it
p-ssy boy, you better do it
aim at his head, now he facing the music
snap that boy just like a toothpick
i catch like all of my homies
they losing their motion, i’m telling ’em move it
’cause swear to god, if they don’t want it
i promise to god, yea, i know they gon’ lose it
g-g-g- gang on security
if he come through to me
you know my boys will id him
truey cologne on my body
when i f-ck a hottie
you know she gon’ f-ck up my dm’s
and you know i hate all the oppas
i pull out the glock
everytime that i see one
and none of you normies
can get on my level
yea, i can’t relate to you peons (yea)
[bridge]
choppa shoot straight at his temple (chop-chop-stra-is-temple)
that sh-t gon’ f-ck with his mental (that sh-t gon’ fu- fu-f-f-fu-tal-tal)
smoke just to waste my potential (smo-jus-my-p-p-ential)
then i might go crash in the rental (real money sh-t, yea)
[chorus]
now- now i stay countin’ up these bucks
m-m-my racks on buss
a-and yo shawty, she wan’ f-ck (yea, she wan’ f-ck)
that sh-t must su-suck (that sh-t must suck)
and your homeboy got no bands (yea)
like-like, he’s yo mans?
’cause he talkin’ h-lla sh-t, yea (talk-talk-, he talkin’ down)
we might throw hands
but i stay strapped with a glock though
30’s in my wock, ho
i-i sip codeine
’cause i don’t wanna f-ckin’ talk, ho (o-o)
rockin’ red on soles, that’s why i keep the socks low (yea)
sierrasix, the way i keep my sh-t on lock though
[outro]
fa-fa-fa-family emergency
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