This is a song about "100 racks"

By the little camera thing on the fuckin' mac book

I came ova yo house, yo momma got racks what's good?

So i just pray and hope god, take a light to myself

Got so much racks on racks i be stacking up on tha shelf

I feel like quasimoto with all this shit on my shoulders

My racks was really stacks of novels and rap posters

100 million dollar nigga, nigga say my name

And i make music for the fuck of it, no fame

It leaves your heart with contusions and racks your brain with delusions

Because your booty mad thick behind them juicy ass lips

I stack racks fat you haters pockets petite.

As they pass through the glass of my neighbors five deep

We wrote this song

100 dollar worth of strong