I don't really got to say much I let my pacc talk I don't really got to talk much That's what these racks for I get fly for the studio I get fly for the airport I get fly everywhere I go oh oh oh 30 bottles up in Graystone In the club rolling airplanes You get money, you already know oh oh So much kris, you would think we bought whole sale And my crib so big, look like a hotel When we leave here we smoking up the hotel When we leave ain't no time to pay the whole bill Cause we al getting money uh I don't really got to say much I let my pacc talk I don't really got to talk much That's what these racks for We getting it n***a I'm a broke n***a's nightmare, broke hoes I stir And I walk in bank roll, long as the dank roll It's gon be hard to hear you n***as Louis frame so I don't have to see you n***as Me and the Taylor Gang, floating on a private plane Bad b**h give me brain, hide behind this tinted thing Money bag, kush go long n***as wonder what I be on All about the Benjies n***a, puffy cone I can make a actress do back flips on mattress I could make a sack do a backflip on Sex Ville Get trippy with a star It will get you far Turned up in the club, TMZ, I stop my car I don't really got to say much I let my pacc talk I don't really got to talk much That's what these racks for Catch me in the spot with more X but the chalk Take off cookies, kush, kilos and mollies Smelling like money, what an elegant flagrance And this watch I got on is a hell of a statement Check the clock and know the time Girl f** your body, I want your mind Maybe I've given this money, making you spending this money I brought you up many planes, then you should probly die I don't really got to say much I let my pacc talk I don't really got to talk much That's what these racks for