This is a song about "Fast driving racing against stars"

When bret hart meet brett farve

Scii ain't aiming for the stars

I leave em frettin more than rock stars

Can't see his son shine like the four tops

Stars become fiction, bars become prisms

Don’t let me talk about the deal ones

And garage for what i'm driving.

Flow to my heart, hit the flo' when im dying

Them niggas lack bars like underground when their celly ring

Mind racing on racing, lately i've been pacing

I’m smoother than alopecia skin

Against discrimination,

I'm looking for a hiding station and my heart is racing

Me i'm like a young simba i can't wait to be the king