This is a song about "Cars money weed slut"

Now my watch fruity colors like trix in a box

Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars

Miami bound with my d.c. chick and we let it fly when we in the club

Nigga i dont spend my money on weed i keep my bands up

A twenty somethin cup

Bad bitch, far from a slut

Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.

We buy cars, y’all flip whips

You fucking mutt, tell me, can a slut

Who the fuck invited mr. i don't give a fuck

I started selling weed, didn't had a choice, needed to get money

And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree

Cruel shit like pussy money weed talking bout that's what you

Avenue that avenue i'm doing more than just passing through

I feel like i got fifty cars

Sb nike's, with the grey box