This is a song about "Bmw cars"

Like the limbs on ya feet, i suppose

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

Your bitch looking messy like she smoking rocks

You'll be missing work, and switching lanes, and hitting cars,

And it is to drive in all these fancy cars

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars

The big bad wolf to me you're just a minor fox

Run through the forest, run away from the cars,

Run away from the cars...

Cause of death? bars

Whiskey cigars and fast cars?

The you should look up in the stars

All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/

I like bitches in air maxes without socks

Memories of stolen cars swervin down abandoned blocks

Bail was a quarter mill, they put me in a box