I don't care about the nice cars and shoes with the leather,
But even if it rain, we get rained on together
They talk about the foreign cars, bitches, and the finest clothes,
And a nigga have ‘em beefin’ on who gon' twist up my new growth
Laundry my clothes while the feds money laundry
Heavy weed smoker, get ounces for free
In the clouds looking down, i ain't even in a rush
Bitches cars and clothes depicted to those who are famous
I tear off her clothes, and take a knife to her throat
We running that show all around the globe
Ever wonder exactly where the sun goes
They talk about the flash clothes, cars, money, cash hoes,
All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/
A fuck that we will never give is like our pops
You'll be missing work, and switching lanes, and hitting cars,
That proud feeling we get knowin' that pussy is ours
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