This is a song about "Ford mustang american muscle"

I then gained a little muscle

I'm like roots, you a new shovel

Upholstered with dead remnants of muscle and bone

Whenever i'm through, you already on the phone

Henry ford, paul revere, i destroy

On my back boy, holla back boy

But whatever it is baby hope you pledge to your dreams, forever my queen

Hate to break this to you but this is nothing like the american dream

Every night i stroke hoes

And american music shows.

Their leather seats in the two-door mustang shit…

We never tattle, let god handle that

Of which we lack muscle.

Ain't nothing here minimal