This is a song about "Rag racing"

But she only fuck with boss niggas - lames, you outta luck

My brain is fuckin racing shit i'm spacing like a plain nut

Pacing back and forth mind racing like a track horse

I love women, air max's and liquor stores

The tooth fairy blow me, swallow don't shit this

That's fake, how you rag on the "haters", fags, and bitches,

You'll think its a simulation when we spirit racing

She was so stuck, a fool in love with the wrong thing

Flapjack, ooh he bring

The clock is still racing

Light the rag, it's a molotov

Bitch got all them booty shots

Do the dirty work, dish rag/

May just gon' bring hobo back

You rag on me but say your a friend

Might as well get it off yo’ chest