This is a song about "Foreign cars money drugs"

You pull up in parking lots

Whiskey cigars and fast cars?

That mean im overflowin all you rappin niggas in cups

Lotta rapper thugs talking bout bitches, money trees, and drugs

Money, drugs, and power rule the world,

Yep she's on x, i called that bitch speed burst

Got like a hundred cars

And mine somewhere bout mars

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

I like bitches in air maxes without socks

I've seen dreams turn dust, cause he made them

All my bitches be foreign

That grow into foreign friends and eventually strange fruit,

Pockets morbidly obese, i'll be tourin for loot