This is a song about "Cars guns"

Got racks, ain’t talking tits

Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.

Metaphors in every color, these indelible bars

Spittin' ridiculous shit about mitsubishi plants, makin' cars

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

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

Without the sound of guns

Guess they ran out of options

You pull up in parking lots

Livin the fast life, in fast cars

But i dont carry guns

These chalance give me balance

They gettin chips, they flippin bricks

Yeah, fancy cars, big bodies and fresh kicks

That was my influence

Without the sound of guns