This is a song about "Drugs cars hoes"

I like hoes that like poles in clean clubs

Of having so much drugs, so much drugs

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

She pretty but she insecure as baby-mother scars

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

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

Cause you know, aside from me strugglin' or coming up in one of the most

Water-less, they sprinkles us with the bullshit that they there through drugs and hoes,

Spittin' ridiculous shit about mitsubishi plants, makin' cars

Metaphors in every color, these indelible bars

The bitches is everything in between

Is money, drugs, hoes, violence washed up routine

And when this beat drops, your heart stops

Run away from the cars...

Got racks, ain’t talking tits

Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.