This is a song about "Racks v2"

God damn pull out my racks

If i don't make that man there dance

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks

'cuz i remember poppin' off them chains from bicycle racks,

Having racks of paper, but i ain't gone complain

That ass is fat baby ain't no way to hide your frame

That we’ve been confined to, so the corporate won’t make decisions

It leaves your heart with contusions and racks your brain with delusions

All i got is fuckin racks

Hammer-hat flyer than a bag of bats

Think it's sweet, think he get money across the street

I stack racks fat you haters pockets petite.

All my homies in this thang wish a nigga would

I came ova yo house, yo momma got racks what's good?

Glad trash bags, throw them in the black bags

You killing all these jacks?your from the racks