The Race

[Intro: Yung Mal]
Yeah
Rich
Eskimo

[Chorus: Yung Mal]
Hop in the foreign, we be racing (foreign, racing, racing, racing)
Pockets filled up with dead presidents, they think I'm racist
I cut her off 'cause she too basic (basic, basic, basic)
I can't fuck her 'less she got a friend, got 'em trading places
So many choppers like the Navy
Ride with them bitches every day just like we left the fuckin' Army basic
My neighborhood full of crack babys
Feds kicked the door, said we got that dope, neighbors say we goin' crazy

[Verse 1: Yung Mal]
Fuck you pay me, too much paper, fuck a hater
Brand new Rollie, wifey made it, could've bought a damn Mercedes
My shoes costs racks, alligator, she suck that dick, Draculator
I bust in her mouth, she swallow then she thank me later
Still on that Candler, middle of Decatur
I'm too plugged, got too much flavor
I came up, got too many haters
Brand new foreign, came with the papers
Tags on it, shawty gotta pick up
Ass on her, make me want to spend a bag on her
But she ain't shit, she too basic basic
I'm high as fuck, I think I laced it
Chase that cash, young nigga be patient
All them chances, I would take it
It couldn't break me, guess it made me
Lost my niggas, shit so crazy, crazy, crazy
Gotta thank God I beat the odds, goodness gracious, gracious, gracious

[Chorus: Yung Mal]
Hop in the foreign, we be racing (foreign, racing, racing, racing)
Pockets filled up with dead presidents, they think I'm racist
I cut her off 'cause she too basic (basic, basic, basic)
I can't fuck her 'less she got a friend, got 'em trading places
So many choppers like the Navy
Ride with them bitches every day just like we left the fuckin' Army basic
My neighborhood full of crack babys
Feds kicked the door, said we got that dope, neighbors say we goin' crazy

[Verse 2: Lil Quill]
12 hit the door, they say we goin' crazy
These lil thots is so crazy, they tryna have all my babies
Maison Margiela, didn't come with no laces
Strapped with this Glock, it didn't come with no safety
Get 'em in, then we ship this shit out to Haiti
Went and bought a new bag, it came with the fragrance
Copped a new Jag, no tags, it got paper
Goin' big on all of my haters
All of the weed is strong, can you leave me 'lone
I'm finna cop a new spot for the gang like the dome
Six four, but no you cannot hit 'em no
Goin' big, 'cause I got this bag on my own
They kids, plus I'm havin' racks of my own
Sneak diss, then we gon' pull up in your zone
I'm havin' dab, Gucci all on my belt and it's chrome
Hop in this foreign, it's push start
Shooters send shots at his heart
We havin' cash, don't need carts
Thought we was playin' but this is no guitar
Kickin' my shit like FIFA
Get his ass swiped like VISA
Smashin' on sight whenever I see him
I hit the gas, I'm speedin'

[Chorus: Yung Mal]
Hop in the foreign, we be racing (foreign, racing, racing, racing)
Pockets filled up with dead presidents, they think I'm racist
I cut her off 'cause she too basic (basic, basic, basic)
I can't fuck her 'less she got a friend, got 'em trading places
So many choppers like the Navy
Ride with them bitches every day just like we left the fuckin' Army basic
My neighborhood full of crack babys
Feds kicked the door, said we got that dope, neighbors say we goin' crazy