This is a song about "Cars and geting laid"

I'm playing cody, smoking stogies, make the rhythm better

I don't care about the nice cars and shoes with the leather,

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

Ever wonder exactly where the sun goes

I gotta bounce, i don’t call her

And i park cars i don't pay for the meter,

Of a convertible elopin' to get married

And i laid some rhymes for you on this funky gangsta beat

And i park cars i don't pay for the meter,

Had to teach the bitch manners, now i gotta learn her

And i park cars i don't pay for the meter,

The answer is the lord like saturday night fever

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

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

I ain't fucking mexican, but we can have sex again

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