This is a song about "Cool cars"

When bret hart meet brett farve

Run away from the cars...

Fuck it, call me a heathen, that's cool

I've seen niggas loose cool, niggas leave school

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

A fuck that we will never give is like our pops

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars

Dreams of giant mansions, diamonds chains, 8 or 9 cars,

I feel like i got fifty cars

Sb nike's, with the grey box

I know you think you cool

Gotta lotta stuff, fool

Niggas is working forever my bars

Hoes love me because of my cars

So i'mma push it to the end and take quarters on shots

Go continue staring at the sky,dream of expensive cars