This is a song about "Hoes cloths cars cribs"

Wayne told me that and that's just how it goes

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

Watching for hollow-tip shots

Run away from the cars...

So i'mma push it to the end and take quarters on shots

Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars

Whiskey cigars and fast cars?

You pull up in parking lots

Took a shot, tired of runnin from the niggas and the cops

That look in his mama's eyes, he was traumatized by police cars,

Drive real fast when i'm in my cars

And when this beat drops, your heart stops

Spittin' ridiculous shit about mitsubishi plants, makin' cars

I was hyper because i didn't get attention from my real pops

Fat rhymes every time, bitch, roseanne bars

And it is to drive in all these fancy cars