This is a song about "Racks v3"

Slang from dust to dawn, detectives act like they maniacs

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

I stack racks fat you haters pockets petite.

As they pass through the glass of my neighbors five deep

Living out of bags

God damn pull out my racks

"holy shit wow look at them gigantic racks my mon!"

Gets older, bolder, and cold cause he's left alone

Smack 'em out the park, delete their number, that's my last call

When i get that 10 racks nigga we gone hit the mall

Nobody never gave me shit, when i got my first chain

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

Stack a gang of bricks racks on racks get our grind on

Let's buy guns and kill those kids with dads and mom