This is a song about "Hot rods"

Huh, i can't interpret her

At bunker hill hot summer,

And i'm still hurtin over pops

Burning hot shots rippin through blocks

Almost cried right on the spot

Cause i'm always served hot

Damn that bitch is really fucking hot

I know you just doing your job

And the food could have been finer

Ryan spits hot fire

Just call me hot skillet

Or let the mob handle that

We popping bottles, it don't stop

We brain freezers,but are rhymes are hot.

X's and o's, you must be the rose

Makin tacos, fuckin hot hoes,