This is a song about "Bars ours cars stars top crop"

I'm an eskimo, nigga, i got cold bars

We're the tip-top of hip-hop, breed rhyme stars,

Stars become fiction, bars become prisms

Together all the timethought it was true love

Almost cried right on the spot

Maybe if i just burn this crop

All fifty seein visions of me shot in the chestcouldn't rest, nah nigga i was stressed

Stayed behind the bars of the prison, farthest from cars n' the women insane at best

Hammer-hat flyer than a bag of bats

Bars like cars the way i speed on tracks

I nurture their brain, i'm moving the movement

By spittin these bars, leave retrieved cars at the dump

Then the gun shot, but i wasn't hit

This world of ours is going to shit

But his deferred, and blurred and changed in shapeit's fate, it wasn't my choice to make

Aiming for the stars with bars hitting hard as catapults making castles shake//