This is a song about "Custom cars"

That look in his mama's eyes, he was traumatized by police cars,

Took a shot, tired of runnin from the niggas and the cops

Dreamin big wanna have nice cars big house

I'm on a thousand islands like mcdonald's cows

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

With this rap shit, you know i do the fucking most

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars

Fuck the cops bitch, if they come up i'll then ignore cars,

This the district where politicians is fucking goons

He was just accostumed to the custom suits/

Why go enclose a dyke gangster, custom manure

Nigga had the fucking nerve to call me immature

Run away from the cars...

And when this beat drops, your heart stops

She pretty but she insecure as baby-mother scars

Never driving through the boulevard, full of future stolen cars