This is a song about "Sweaty butch racks"

The cp3 of this rap game, i bet my nigga score

Freestyle natural like butch reed,blow your mind like a claymore

Im hot, and ready u better be sweaty,

They gon keep on watching, give em something to see

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

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

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

The tracks on snack off raps, see stacks from back of my slacks

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

Relax, take ya coat off, and let me getcha name

My racks was really stacks of novels and rap posters

And ain't it shameful, how niggas blame hoes for givin' birth

While his fiends for cream well exceeded the dream she once lived for

Surrounded by the thirst driven sweaty messes blocking the door

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

They ain't hard, swear to god. these niggas ain't real at all