What You Mean - SFB

Ze praten over Racks

Praten over Racks

Ai, lets get it

Ik hoor je praten over stacks, like what you mean

Want ik was in die trap, ik heb verdiend

Al m’n niggers willen Racks, in dem jeans

Ik wil m’n libie fast, hayek speed

Praten over stacks, like what you mean

Want ik was in die trap, ik heb verdiend

Al m’n niggers willen Racks, in dem jeans

Ik wil m’n libie fast, hayek speed

Één van m’n shooters die shooten

Ik ben een king, Martin Luther

Ik me fam moet ik voeden

Die schemers die schemen, nu vaak op m’n hoede

Jij bent een, ze

Je chickie die plakt.

je chickie die plakt

Ik zweer 't, ik zweer 't ze loeren

d’r vader en moeder

In de trap ik was daar met m’n broeders al day

MM, Making Money, money

ben ik dagelijks rijk

In m’n eentje, blow tien in Parijs

Dat is vijf voor de tijd

27 voor de ding die ik rij

Ze praten over Racks

Praten over Racks

Ai, lets get it

Ik hoor je praten over stacks, like what you mean

Want ik was in die trap, ik heb verdiend

Al m’n niggers willen Racks, in dem jeans

Ik wil m’n libie fast, hayek speed

They talk about Racks

Talk about racks

Oh, let's get it

I hear you talking about stacks, like what you mean

Because I was in that trap, I earned

All my niggers want Racks, in dem jeans

I want my libie fast, hayek speed

Talk about stacks, like what you mean

Because I was in that trap, I earned

All my niggers want Racks, in dem jeans

I want my libie fast, hayek speed

One of my shooters shooting

I am a king, Martin Luther

I me fam must I feed

Those twilights that twilight, now often on my guard

You are one, them

Your chickie that sticks.

your chickie that sticks

I swear, I swear they lurk

her father and mother

In the stairs I was there with my brothers all day

MM, Making Money, money

I am rich every day

On my own, blow ten in Paris

That is five before time

27 for the thing I drive

They talk about Racks

Talk about racks

Oh, let's get it

I hear you talking about stacks, like what you mean

Because I was in that trap, I earned

All my niggers want Racks, in dem jeans

I want my libie fast, hayek speed