This is a song about "Old cars"

More props. r.i.p., my poor pops

Drive real fast when i'm in my cars

While in the distance i hear passing cars

Hoes show me love, niggas give me props

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

Love reefer and love sneaker above those

You'll be missing work, and switching lanes, and hitting cars,

Metaphors in every color, these indelible bars

Whiskey cigars and fast cars?

Can't see his son shine like the four tops

Got like a hundred cars

So she kisses the stars

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

With reality defeating n leaving scars guns shot from cars

Secrets r hidden within the clouds

Dreamin big wanna have nice cars big house