This is a song about "Hoes cloths cars cribs"

Who fly? i'm a red eye with eye drops

Hoes love me because of my cars

I don't rock designer cloths, i rather rock and shock with that raiden robe

Every morning calls his comrade to come and get him to smoke

Fortune, fame, cars, hoes are tens, nobody's tense,

Everybody coming home deserve a white benz

Whiskey cigars and fast cars?

When bret hart meet brett farve

Can't see his son shine like the four tops

I won’t be bragging ’bout my cars

Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks

He wares a linen cloths and a pair of reed sandals

I’m sayin’ that i know, revealing them most

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

The you should look up in the stars

Got like a hundred cars