This is a song about "Custom cars"

Why go enclose a dyke gangster, custom manure

I tell her it's my house, give her a tour

Fat rhymes every time, bitch, roseanne bars

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

All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars

I feel like i got fifty cars

Heard the sound of several gun shots

Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.

Soon as the stooly sings

I won’t be bragging ’bout my cars

Niggas is working forever my bars

Cars are passing by, guy

All you niggas die

Hoes show me love, niggas give me props

Hoes love me because of my cars