This is a song about "Rap about weed hoes and money flashy cars and bank"

Now i play the roosevelt and i cop rose

Chillin back smoking weed writing raps and fucking hoes

To the point that he just breaks, snaps, and it's all it takes

But all i hear is "money, hoes, i'm the shit, cars and chains",

We love for a while then a light goes

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

No rehearsal, i know it all like urkel

Getting bank and that is literal

Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars

That proud feeling we get knowin' that pussy is ours

They talk about the foreign cars, bitches, and the finest clothes,

That they probably be in the closet of old folks

Rolling with the dopest hoes and they don't know i rap

I deserve a medal, lap 'em on every track

Smoking weed and listening to rap

So far you nasty, ff-fuck you call that