This is a song about "Cars hoes and bitches"

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

That they probably be in the closet of old folks

Everybody coming home deserve a white benz

Fortune, fame, cars, hoes are tens, nobody's tense,

Im killing niggahz and they hoes

X's and o's, you must be the rose

Everything i wanted never seem so close

They talk about the flash clothes, cars, money, cash hoes,

Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars

Forearm with my gang name, that's an old carve

I could talk about diamonds and all my bitches and hoes,

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

And y'all talk constantly, about all of your bitches and hoes,

I'm chasing money, not the liquor, y'all ain't even close

And a nigga have ‘em beefin’ on who gon' twist up my new growth

You chasing hoes, we replacing hoes, bag and pass them hoes