This is a song about "Racks and money stacks"

Back to the flashbacks blowing stacks

Yeah, red bottoms, she ain't trying to dance

Glad trash bags, throw them in the black bags

Crap rappers wear gold chains and hold stacks

He got a wife, ex-wife, and a baby mother

Stacks on stacks on stacks as if money was lumber

When i run out of stacks i go and get some more

Billy-club chainsaw, i’m coming through their front door

And, niggas cashing out racks like im hitting the lotto

The roc to allido, they all believe me though

Cuz i got too many stacks

Sorry mr. charlie won't chap dance

Out with the homies, cuz shorty wanna be a thug

Money come and money go still money problems addin up