This is a song about "Cars and babies"

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

Got police chasen meto my niggas from old blocks

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

Standing flat footed, i’m on my toes

The city streets - bars, clubbing and cars rushing at sickly speeds

I cop weed for less of a percentage than i fucking plot seeds

In my room, redefinin' the meanin' of black holes

They talk about the foreign cars, bitches, and the finest clothes,

A fuck that we will never give is like our pops

Who earn their cash and blow it all up on these shiny cars,

Neighbours washing cars and reading fucking magazines.

Because i'm seventeen, compose my own beats

Cause my mission's insane, you couldn't vision the pain

Thinkin you're so good cause you got money, cars, and fame,

Could make the eyes of the blind perform

Satan babies that cause storms and invert child porn,