Rack City

Lyrics

[Intro: Tyga & Aasim] Boss Aasim Rack rack city, bitch (Social Club) Rack rack rack city, bitch (DJ Far, ugh) Rack, rack rack rack city, bitch (Yeah) Mustard on the beat [Verse 1: Tyga & Aasim] Rack city, bitch, rack rack city, bitch Ten, ten, ten, twenty on yo' titties, bitch Hundred deep VIP, no guest list (Uh) T-T-Raw, you don't know who you fuckin with [Verse 2: Aasim] Be careful on my hands, they slidin' your panties off Careful-careful on my hands, they slidin' your panties off Careful-careful on my hands, they slidin' your panties off Be careful on my dick, he got his own train of thought Baby, I'm just a freak and I'm ready at all costs Come up to your job and fuck you in front of your boss My tongue is a world champ, it never took a loss So if you ready to win, I'm ready-dy to-to get-get you off [Rewind] [Interlude: Female Voice & Male Voice] Remix! (Uh, yeah) [Verse 2: Aasim] Careful on my hands, they slidin' your panties off Be careful on my dick, he got his own train of thought Baby, I'm just a freak and I'm ready at all costs Come up to your job and fuck you in front of your boss My tongue is a world champ, it never took a loss So if you ready to win, I'm ready to get you off Ooh, that boy kinda nasty So anything obscene you should never put it past me Rack city, bitch, cock back a pretty bitch Make you suck me off then bust all over your titties, bitch I ain't go time to kick it with a giddy bitch Leave your happy ass stuck and left rack city, bitch Two bullet wounds, one box cutter scar You ain't see me 'cause I pulled up in my brother's car Last week, I was in my baby mother car Make your booty pop while I'm fuckin' with your cookie jar [Verse 3: Tyga] I'm a muthafuckin' star (Star) Look at the paint on the car (Car) Too much rim make the ride too hard Tell that bitch hop out, walk the boulevard I need my money pronto Get it in the morning like Alonzo Rondo, green got cheese like a nacho If you don't got no ass, bitch, wear a poncho Head honcho got my seat back Nigga staring at me, don't get bapped Got my shirt off, the club too packed It's too turnt going up like gas Goddamn, pulled out my rags Mike, Mike Jackson, nigga yeah I'm bad Rat-tat-tat-tat, tatted up on my back All the hoes love me, you know what it is [Chorus: Tyga] Rack city, bitch, rack rack city, bitch Rack city, bitch, rack rack city, bitch Rack city, bitch, rack rack city, bitch Ten, ten, ten, twenties and them fifties, bitch Rack city, bitch, rack rack city, bitch Rack city, bitch, rack rack city, bitch Rack city, bitch, rack rack city, bitch Ten, ten, ten, twenties and them fifties, bitch [Outro: Tyga] Throwin' hundreds, hundreds Hundreds, hundreds Throwin' hundreds, hundreds Rack city, bitch, rack rack city, bitch Hundreds, hundreds Throwin' hundreds, hundreds Hundreds, hundreds Rack city, bitch, rack rack city, bitch DJ Far