This is a song about "Money hoes cars trapping racks bands"

Slangin' rocks with your glocks put this tape in your box

All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/

Sorry mr. charlie won't chap dance

Trapping with the hood rats

Cuz the way her eyes glance like they playing in my pants

Gimme a hundred grand, don't need the rubber bands,

Hating my macking, they asking

Then i'll twist round you guys, trapping/

Let me say this shit in slow-mo, homo

The money, cars, and clothes, the riches and dough,

I hate rap like kramer hate blacks

God damn pull out my racks

Thinkin you're so good cause you got money, cars, and fame,

I am not tina, buddy, do not give my window pain

"listen to the track bitch!" echoes

Spend money ,don't fuck with hoes.