Left chicago with good money for 5 drops
And it is to drive in all these fancy cars
All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/
A hell of motherfucking road blocks
But all i hear is "money, hoes, i'm the shit, cars and chains",
Bitch, i ball, ho, you lame, look at my laneys, switchin’ lanes
Run away from the cars...
Bitch got all them booty shots
I won’t be bragging ’bout my cars
Rapping as i'm mocking deaf rock stars
I feel like i got fifty cars
I be murdering bars
We drive around in million dollar sports cars
I'm an eskimo, nigga, i got cold bars
That look in his mama's eyes, he was traumatized by police cars,
We don't want you with skinny legs and the big ass ass shots
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