This is a song about "Black crack and rick racks"

Palms sweating and heading to crack keys

Pay homage to a god, bitch fall on your knees

A bunch of fucking wolves and rats having niggers the size of shaq

And then the cia come and they flood the streets with crack,

Sorry mr. charlie won't chap dance

All i got is fuckin racks

My racks was really stacks of novels and rap posters

And ain't it shameful, how niggas blame hoes for givin' birth

Either that or they 4:4, some call them fantastic

And i spit sick shit so quick like slick rick

Greed written on her face when i bought her first bag

To their backs and attract the black on black

I never judge a murder by weapons, only the rage

Give them a couple racks and watch everybody change

Rocking black and gold stocking caps

Man it’s the killer tracks