This is a song about "Crosscountry racing"

A nigga thorough, she knew it before i bought her car

The way i'm racing around the track, call me nascar, nascar

No badass here, just a slacking rat racing queer.

I would speed chase but nothing is in the clear

My brain is fuckin racing shit i'm spacing like a plain nut

But a couple shots of it got a nigga on stuck

Heart racing like the cops done hit the corner

My motherfucking doctor said i need a doctor

Ironic cause your lipstick is red, of course

Beat illmatic? fine, pace on tracks like a racing horse,

Nothing making sense all my thoughts racing

Same '89 camry that needs painting

Known to damage and highly flammable like gas stationssorry i left that ass waiting

Time to stop the masturbation' and read a book so your brain can slow down - stop racing

How can niggas blame us, i am not ashamed but

You all racing to the top ill just glide up