This is a song about "Faggots money bitches enemies fast cars gold chains"

They talk about the foreign cars, bitches, and the finest clothes,

In my room, redefinin' the meanin' of black holes

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

Sorta like drano...you know how the game goes

My ysl lenses, my infrared sixes

Get money then bitches

But he keeps it real for the gold and through the chains,

Roll you up and let it run through my veins

They talk about the flash clothes, cars, money, cash hoes,

Now i play the roosevelt and i cop rose

Livin the fast life, in fast cars

A hell of motherfucking road blocks

Crap rappers wear gold chains and hold stacks

It's odd that they say that the crack kill blacks

When bret hart meet brett farve

Drive real fast when i'm in my cars