60 Rackz (Remix)

[Intro] This is the Vmix! How big said it When the Rémy's in the system Well, I got a 60 clip on me Like an AK in my pocket, bitch Get money Or should I say Young Money Ayy, killa, you know the rules, dip set for life [Hook: Jim Jones] I'm all about that motherfucking paper, ho This song goes out to all my money making hoes Sixty racks in my pocket, sixty racks in my jeans Sixty racks in my pocket, top back when I lean I pull up in that motherfucking Phantom Ghost This song goes out to all my niggas getting dough Sixty racks in my pocket, sixty racks in my jeans Sixty racks in my pocket, top back when I lean [Verse 1: Jim Jones] Sixty racks, that's no dough, matter fact, that's ho dough I made that when I transported, back and forth taking Nodoze Rolex rose-gold, my neck so cold She seen't that quarter chill, V in black, quarter mill We don't shop at saveraux, sixty-thou' for the roll Drop top foreign flow, this is not affordable Wrist cold, caught the flu, Cartier said quarter to She sucked my dick, swallowed it, my watch still said quarter to Dipset, Young Money, niggas know that that money grown Wanna talk to me, you better talk to me, from that pool deck of my summer home (Can't hear you niggas) My summer home, pool deck with like a hundred on Who's a threat? Got a pool net, and my jewels wet like a thunderstorm [Hook: Jim Jones] I'm all about that motherfucking paper, ho This song goes out to all my money making hoes Sixty racks in my pocket, sixty racks in my jeans Sixty racks in my pocket, top back when I lean I pull up in that motherfucking Phantom Ghost This song goes out to all my niggas getting dough Sixty racks in my pocket, sixty racks in my jeans Sixty racks in my pocket, top back when I lean [Verse 2: Lil Wayne] Swear to God I go so hard, they call me Tunechi fuck 'em all Can't pack no gun, so I keep a knife like that fuckin' Chucky doll I'm at your neck like a shawl, on your ass like some drawers I got three hoes with me, fuck, I look like Santa Claus And I got bad bitches all over me, real niggas that roll with me And we get off weight like that one bitch from Floetry Got a pair of pants with four pockets, 15K in each of 'em Do the math you mo'fucka, I'm on my Robin Leach, blood Skating with my homeboys, talking shit smoking weed I oversee everything, niggas call me overseas Young Mulah, mothafucka, click-clack-boo ya, mothafucka Sixty racks in my pocket, try to jack and get bodied Young Tunechi [Hook: Jim Jones] I'm all about that motherfucking paper, ho This song goes out to all my money making hoes Sixty racks in my pocket, sixty racks in my jeans Sixty racks in my pocket, top back when I lean I pull up in that motherfucking Phantom Ghost This song goes out to all my niggas getting dough Sixty racks in my pocket, sixty racks in my jeans Sixty racks in my pocket, top back when I lean [Verse 3: Cam'ron] I got an ill gift, I'm real swift, they be like, "Damn, he still rich" When I send my men in black listen none of them niggas is will smith I sell coke, I deal piff, when I ride by in that black on black Ménage à trois with two double D's, come to see that's racks on racks They ship it in, I give it to ya on the ground or in the air They drop it off, they're like LeBron in the 4th quarter, I give it there I be me, you be you, apologies to Groovie Lou Sorry, brah, I ain't fuckin' with mase, yea yea tell 'em you be cool Me I rep that Hud 6, I ain't even gon' play with 'em Harlem Underworld for real, you can fool Wale and them The MAC, well, that's black on black, true fact I'm crack on tracks Play around, and I'll lay you down, sixty racks in your cap, nigga [Hook: Jim Jones] I'm all about that motherfucking paper, ho This song goes out to all my money making hoes Sixty racks in my pocket, sixty racks in my jeans Sixty racks in my pocket, top back when I lean I pull up in that motherfucking Phantom Ghost This song goes out to all my niggas getting dough Sixty racks in my pocket, sixty racks in my jeans Sixty racks in my pocket, top back when I lean