Correction Lyrics What Nyc Sounds Like by 917 Rackz

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Lyrics

Rackz, Rackz, Rackz, Rackz
Rackz, Rackz
Rackz, Rackz, Rackz

Feel like the king of my city, the way I manuever through they hoods
Got me a nice little biddie, I gotta improve her 'cause she good
F**ked all of her friends, uh, she just a new one in the books
Runnin' to these Ms, uh, I just need money, I don't need no friends,-

-but if they try to backdoor me for the racks, they get cut off
Try to steal my swag, I sold the run off
Don't carry cash on me, uh, but I swipe the piece, and that's because of
I got a lot of people want me dead, no, I just cannot wait to let that gun off
Now, I'm just runnin', duckin' from the feds, now, I just can't do nothin' with the gloves off

Uh, now, they tryna' keep up
Lost my brother, we gon' tee up
I can't help it I cry in the night
Tryna' catch a Peter
Up with the jets, we gon' fly out the night
I be with the creepers, uh, please do not hide in the night, look
Shots from the blick, hitting walls to the floor
Catch me a shh, he gon' (touch the ground)
Brodie won't stop, brodie need more
My ooter been fiendin' to dump out the other round
Still won't win a grammy, uh, but I'm platinum in the underground
Swear that they ain't wanna come around
Now, these b*t*hes want another round

Rackz, uh
I told the bros it's no lettin' up
I'ma set us up
I took my ooter to training, (Pew, pew, pew) hit his block, we gon' bend it up, hah
Ain't no getting up, grrah, grrah
Now they ain't forgetting us
Rackz, Rackz, Rackz

Ooh, he wildin'
Won't eat the coochie, and now she ain't smilin'
She still give me brain like Lucy, uh
I could never cuff a smoochie, she wildin'
I been outside, and, I never ever seen a b*t*h that want me in their gossip
All the shorties know we stylin'
Rackz, VBlock, Rackz, Rackz, Rackz
I was 5'11, uh, stand on my racks, now I'm 6 foot 7
Talk about the get back, uh, but I'm sayin' you should get you a weapon
Yeah, they know I get racks, uh
I could never owe 'em, uh, but I'm steppin' in Owens, uh
And, it's Rick for the Denim, facts

I got the slyest haters
I know they tryna' get us
But, we all up in Neiman, Marcus
B*t*h, we the demons, and we spark sh*t
Designer European, pour the [?] now I'm peein'
No peace treaty, no agreements
'Cause you know we start sh*t, grrah

Look, shorty, I'm just being honest, I'm going through love, and war
Gotta pour up the lean
My heart feels sore, but, I'm talkin' to myself, followin' my conscience
I told Kay-Kay to up it and flock it, grrah

I look at myself in the mirror
Respect myself too much to forgive her (Baow)
Hot winter, I start shiver
I can't walk alone, I'ma call up my hitter
Cold Summer, coming soon
Full cup, and that drip he gon pour all up in it
Yeah that boy poor he ain't spend it
Shorty ya boyfriend a broke bum
Uh, she really want me, she fiendin' to trap me
I told her, "No, you can't have me"
I'm with the ooters, nobody attacked me
She act sa**y, the second I walk in the spot, she like, "Snatch me, snap me"
She told me, that I better treat her holy
Everyone want me, and they'll hara** me

Rackz, Rackz

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