Racks, racks
In the sack
Bitch you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Racks, racks
In the sack
Ho you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
She gimme that neck like a king cobra
Hmm, I don't know her
Shorty booty shake like a rattlesnake
The way she can move she must do some yoga
Fill dat bag up, I hit the quota
Money making motherf*cker, my diploma
Move too slow, hands low, just know this glock gone blow like a supernova
And now we taking over
By 'we' I mean me, I'm the sole composer
My soul to the devil on some full disclosure
Pen dipped in blood as I sign it over
Hot with the flow like I'm boiling over
Step into my inclosure, it'll all be over
You're fresh out of luck, no four-leaf clover
One look at your bitch and I'll win her over
Racks, racks
In the sack
Bitch you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Racks, racks
In the sack
Ho you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Cha-ching
Bitch, let it sing
Motherf*ckers come at me as if I'm not the king
Calm it down a little on some little person ting
I am so high you could never clip my wings
Evidently, I'm the best
All the information point to that
Everybody want a little taste
Kiss a little bit under my waist
Any effort you put in's a waste
All you bitches sound like copy paste
I'm tryna develop my own way
I envelop the landscape with my shine everyday, hey
Racks, racks
In the sack
Bitch you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Racks, racks
In the sack
Ho you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Prettyboy - FILLDATBAGUP Lyrics
Prettyboy - FILLDATBAGUP Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Racks, racks
In the sack
Bitch you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Racks, racks
In the sack
Ho you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
She gimme that neck like a king cobra
Hmm, I don't know her
Shorty booty shake like a rattlesnake
The way she can move she must do some yoga
Fill dat bag up, I hit the quota
Money making motherf*cker, my diploma
Move too slow, hands low, just know this glock gone blow like a supernova
And now we taking over
By 'we' I mean me, I'm the sole composer
My soul to the devil on some full disclosure
Pen dipped in blood as I sign it over
Hot with the flow like I'm boiling over
Step into my inclosure, it'll all be over
You're fresh out of luck, no four-leaf clover
One look at your bitch and I'll win her over
Racks, racks
In the sack
Bitch you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Racks, racks
In the sack
Ho you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Cha-ching
Bitch, let it sing
Motherf*ckers come at me as if I'm not the king
Calm it down a little on some little person ting
I am so high you could never clip my wings
Evidently, I'm the best
All the information point to that
Everybody want a little taste
Kiss a little bit under my waist
Any effort you put in's a waste
All you bitches sound like copy paste
I'm tryna develop my own way
I envelop the landscape with my shine everyday, hey
Racks, racks
In the sack
Bitch you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Racks, racks
In the sack
Ho you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
In the sack
Bitch you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Racks, racks
In the sack
Ho you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
She gimme that neck like a king cobra
Hmm, I don't know her
Shorty booty shake like a rattlesnake
The way she can move she must do some yoga
Fill dat bag up, I hit the quota
Money making motherf*cker, my diploma
Move too slow, hands low, just know this glock gone blow like a supernova
And now we taking over
By 'we' I mean me, I'm the sole composer
My soul to the devil on some full disclosure
Pen dipped in blood as I sign it over
Hot with the flow like I'm boiling over
Step into my inclosure, it'll all be over
You're fresh out of luck, no four-leaf clover
One look at your bitch and I'll win her over
Racks, racks
In the sack
Bitch you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Racks, racks
In the sack
Ho you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Cha-ching
Bitch, let it sing
Motherf*ckers come at me as if I'm not the king
Calm it down a little on some little person ting
I am so high you could never clip my wings
Evidently, I'm the best
All the information point to that
Everybody want a little taste
Kiss a little bit under my waist
Any effort you put in's a waste
All you bitches sound like copy paste
I'm tryna develop my own way
I envelop the landscape with my shine everyday, hey
Racks, racks
In the sack
Bitch you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Racks, racks
In the sack
Ho you wack, wack
Bitch you
Bitch you wack, yeah
Writer: Clark Millman
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid