This is a song about "Hot pockets"

Got racks, ain’t talking tits

Money in my pockets

Pockets so fat of money there creaming cash rules evrything around me

Get a bottle of ciroc and take a chopper to the party

Your mouth, i don't need, your legs, you can keep

I stack racks fat you haters pockets petite.

Though my credits are slept, my ambition the best

Pockets filled with a lot of lint, not a cent

Feeling lucky let me touch your spot

Hot, hot, hot! strange, old ain't hot.

Yo i spit this shit and rock mockers like hot pockets,

If we don't fix this then you'll see the same things

I ain’t e’en tryin’, fool, ho, i ball like private school

Churches searching for the pockets of the poor