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“Rack City;” And Why Music Sucks Now.

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A few months ago, The Youngest came over to my house to hang out, play some Call of Duty, and probably try to talk me into buying him booze.

The usual.

However, on this particular occasion he came in repeating the same phrase over and over.

“Rack city chick, rack rack city chick.” 

If he said this once, he said it a hundred times that evening. He said it when he killed a guy in COD, he said it when our children talked to him, he used it to creatively answer questions, etc. At some point during the evening I finally took the bait and asked him what it was from.

“It’s this new song, man. It’s awesome.” 

“Is it about boobs?”

“Yeah man. Boobs.” 

As ridiculous as it sounds, that was all it took for my interest to be piqued. I mean, a song about boobs? Right? C’mon.

So the next day I queued it up on Spotify and had a listen. I picked the unedited version, and the following substance flowed into my brain and temporarily put me into some sort of catatonic state.

Rack, rack, city b**ch, city b**ch
Rack, rack, rack city b**ch, city b**ch, rack
Rack, rack, rack city b**ch, city b**ch
Mutha on the beat
[Verse 1:]
Rack city b**ch, rack, rack city b**ch
Ten ten ten twenties on ya titties b**ch
100 deep V.I.P. no guest list
T-Raw you don’t know who you f***ing with?
Got my other b**ch f***ing with my other b**ch
F***ing all night nigga we ain’t celibate
Make it sound too dope I ain’t selling it
Bar fresher than a motherf***ing peppermint
Gold Letterman last kings killing s**t
Young money young money yeah we getting rich
I Got ya grandma on my peepee (ha ha)
Girl you know what it is
[Hook: x2]
Rack city b**ch, rack, rack, city b**ch [x3]
Ten, ten, ten, twenties and them fifties b**ch
[Verse 2:]
I’m a motherf***ing star (star)
Look at the paint on the car (car)
Too much rim make the ride too hard
Tell that b**ch hop out, walk the boulevard
I need my money pronto
Get it in the morning like Alonzo
Rondo, Green got cheese like a nacho
If you ain’t got no @ss b**ch wear a poncho
Head hancho got my seat back
Nigga staring at me don’t get bapped
Got my shirt off the club too packed
It’s too turned going up like gas
God d**n pulled out my racks
Mike Mike Jackson nigga yeah I’m bad
Rat T-T-T-Tatted up on my back
All the hoes love me you know what it is
[Hook: x2]
Rack city b**ch, rack, rack, city b**ch [x3]
Ten, ten, ten, twenties and them fifties b**ch
Throwing hunnids, hunnids
Hunnids, hunnids
Throwing hunnids, hunnids
Rack city b**ch, rack, rack city b**ch
Hunnids, hunnids
Throwing hunnids, hunnids
Hunnids, hunnids
Rack city b**ch, rack, rack city b**ch
(Rack, rack, rack, rack, rack…)
As you can see, I’ve had to do quite a bit of work on the censoring front, if only to protect the eyes of some of my younger readers. That aside, I counted about fifteen actual words throughout the whole song. Most of the time it just sounds like the singer, a Mr. TYGA, as it were, has a severe stuttering handicap that is triggered by the thought of a woman without a shirt on. Great stuff, this music of the younger generation.
Let’s break this thing down, shall we?
1. In the intro, we are introduced to this place called “Rack City,” which I have deduced to be a strip club somewhere close to Tyga’s place of residence. I’ll explain that later. It’s also when we are introduced to the artist’s speech impediment. At this point, I truthfully thought the whole song was just “rack city b**ch” over and over again.
2. “100 deep V.I.P, no guest list.” There are more or less one hundred people “in da club,” and everyone is a V.I.P. There are also no guests allowed, which won’t bode well for Tyga’s best friend “Lyon,” who is an up and coming music producer that has latched on to Tyga like a Lexington, KY resident on their favorite sectional.
3. Apparently at this point there are two ladies, both of which are his, performing some sort of sensual act on each other. This is where he points out that he is excellent at marathon love-making, which would be easy to do if you were never involved in the fore-mentioned tryst. He then tells us how fresh the bar is, which he likens to a peppermint, so I guess he means sticky. That makes sense. Then he moves on to tell us about having “relations” with your grandmother. Just seems an odd thing to talk about when there are a couple of ladies in front of him obviously willing to try anything once.
4. In the next verse, he tells us about his stardom, which is evidenced by the paint job on his vehicular conveyance. After that, he gives us a bit of practical advice by explaining that “too much rim make the ride too hard.” This is a proven fact, if your rims are too big, then your vehicle’s performance over rough terrain will be awful. He then immediately kicks a young lady out of his car and makes her become a prostitute.
5. “Get it in the morning like Alonzo, Rondo, Green got cheese like a nacho.” I wish I could tell you what that meant. Apparently Alonzo Mourning, Rajon Rondo, and this Green fella have a particular affinity for cheese like that on nachos. I also like nacho cheese. Assuming I’ve not missed any allegorical meaning here, I’m going to say that I’d get along well with those three guys.
6. The next line advises all the young ladies who don’t have a big rear end to wear a poncho to cover it up. I’d like to go ahead and tell you not to listen to that. To quote the amazing John Mayer, your body is a wonderland. Also, Tyga is obviously a boob guy, so what does her care about the rear end for? He then tells us not to get “bapped.” Upon consultation of Urban Dictionary, the act of getting bapped is to be hit harder than a thwap, but not so hard that it causes any real lasting injury.
7. “It’s too turned going up like gas.” This is the only part of the song I understand. Gas is high. Gas is real high, and it keeps going up. This is why I assume the club is close to Tyga’s house. He seems to be concerned with the increasing cost of travel, and when you combine that with strip club tips, he’s on the fast train to bankruptcy.
8. I think after all this is done he’s getting a Michael Jackson tattoo. I’m not 100% on that though, I may have mistranslated something. Seems as if the stuttering problem attacks again at this point.
9. Throughout the song, the amount of money that he’s been throwing at these young ladies has been steadily increasing. One can only assume that this is directly related to the amount of alcohol imbibed. The first time is was tens and twenties. Then he started throwing fifties. Now, at the end, he’s throwing “hunnids,” which is a one hundred dollar bill. Assuming that every mention of a denomination of money indicates what he’s thrown at the ladies, and assuming that “twenties” and “fifties” means two of each bill, then at the end of the evening he’s spent $1,610 at “Rack City.” Also assuming he just turned out the one prostitute at the beginning of the night, and the average nightly take of prostitute is around $615, and a pimp’s cut is around 25%, which equates to around $154, then the amount of money Tyga actually spent on this particular evening is $1,456.
10. The end of the song is just the word “rack” about six thousand times. Many artists choose to end their songs with a clever twist, a beautiful piece of poetry, or a sympathetic word. Tyga went the other way.
To sum up, the song is terrible. I won’t get into the whole “it’s degrading to women” argument, because that’s the music industry in general, with the exception of Adele, and she’s so depressing she doesn’t count. But seriously. “Rack City” is just one more example of why music sucks now.