Racks To The Ceiling Lyrics by Lil Pump ft. Tory Lanez is latest English song with music also given by them. Racks To The Ceiling song lyrics are written by Lil Pump and Tory Lanez.
Racks To The Ceiling Song Detail
Singer: Lil Pump, Tory Lanez
Composer: Lil Pump, Tory Lanez
Lyrics by: Lil Pump, Tory Lanez
Racks To The Ceiling Lyrics
Oh my god, ronny
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
I give a f**k how you feelin’, ooh
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
I give a f**k how you feelin’, ooh
Watch how I blow a couple milli’
Dive in the p**sy esskeetit
All of my whips came tinted
None of my cars ain’t rented, ooh, uh
Balmain and celine
Off a molly and a bean yeah
This not fruit of the loop
My boxers they say supreme
She say a doozy her p**sy
My diamonds they wet like jacuzzi, yeah
I put my thumb in her booty
Ooh just went through a ksubis, ooh
I got ten guns in my house
This s**t look like call of duty
Red diamonds on me they ruby
Suck on me don’t give me cooties
Go from the jets to the jetski
Your baby mama wan’ sex me, uh
She eat me up like spaghetti
My diamonds splashing baguettes, uh
Step on my b**ch in guiseppe’s
I’m in ukraine with a semi
All my jewelry new security
Dare a n**ga try to test me
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
I give a f**k how you feelin’, ooh
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
I give a f**k how you feelin’
She wanna f**k with umbrella
But her friend ugly, I told her hold up, lil’ fella
When they send it, my cash extended
As soon as it’s printed right fresh out the teller
I got a old check, hoo
Blowing off dirt ‘fore I take it out the cellar
Lil’ b**ch calling me rude, hating all of my views
B**ch, you fat as my pockets, you know I’ma tell her
I hit that b**ch with a wink
F**k her in the bathroom
Washing my dick in the sink
If issa ting, issa ting
Bobbin’ and weavin’ that p**sy
And doing my thing in the ring
I’m goin’ stupid on cubans
It’s link after link after link
I’m doin’ sour in all of my relationships
I be lying ’bout fling after fling after fling after fling
Wearing this louis, inside of my closet
Look just like a warehouse
How many 100 dollar bands ..
Can I cut the rubber band off and tear out
Touching way too much cash for me to care ’bout
Still’ll come kill a n**ga ’bout my payout
These n**gas talkin’ hot
I feel like ar with the shot
I let the ar come and air out, woo
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
I give a f**k how you feelin’, ooh
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
Racks all the way to the ceiling
I give a f**k how you feelin’