This is a song about "Foreskin arms cars"

Got like a hundred cars

And mine somewhere bout mars

Run away from the cars...

Sb nike's, with the grey box

Atomic bombs come like nations at arms

I got nice hands, niggas eat out my big palms

All on the furniture with no regards

Atomic bombs come like nations at arms

Trying to move foward, though it never stops

I feel like i got fifty cars

While in the distance i hear passing cars

I'm from a cocaine block, with some plain clothes cops

Minus your head legs arms

Tire marks, tire marks

She likes the way it hits her lips

Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.