Cause i'll +bolt+ on usain, i'm too ahead of the game
Thinkin you're so good cause you got money, cars, and fame,
The hot-box vehicle like breathing out the window
The money, cars, and clothes, the riches and dough,
Neighbours washing cars and reading fucking magazines.
I just wanna get some head, maybe ass ‘fore i leave
Can't see his son shine like the four tops
And it is to drive in all these fancy cars
Livin the fast life, in fast cars
More props. r.i.p., my poor pops
Hit me up in a couple days, we can try again
Thinkin you're so good cause you got money, cars, and fame,
And i park cars i don't pay for the meter,
Though she pop me low, lookin’ for dat beaver
Bitches cars and clothes depicted to those who are famous
In the clouds looking down, i ain't even in a rush
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