This is a song about "Hateing fake freinds glocks stacks weed"

She paying to fuck me, while you waste your stacks.

If i could do it all again, have just one more chance

87, brick fare, yeah, i’m talking thirty racks

Now i'm feeling like huell sleeping on fat stacks

I don’t know why…hey, wait a minute motherfucker

Stacks on stacks on stacks as if money was lumber

This is my high rap, you cant even touch my high stacks.

Go to hell, i mean that, burn you like green backs

But what if they were in our shoes without their stacks

Hop over, run backwards, with a knap sack of green supreme hats